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MADAME   TALLIEN  (PRINCESSE   DE   CH1MAY 


ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN 


France 


UN- 


MRS.    CHALLICE, 

Author  <iK  "  Memories  of  French  Palaces,"  &c,  &c 


1790 


1  87 


WITH      ILLUSTRATIONS. 


NEW  YORK: 

SCRIBNER,    WliLFORD,    &    CO. 
1873. 

I  lit,-  Ki^ht  ></  Trmis/ii/iiv  «  ><•.*  vv,</.  ] 


PREFACE. 

u  What  has  been  is  : 
What  is,  has  been. " 

jfe*  N    history    it   is    often    remarkable   how 
circles  and  cycles  of  time  reproduce  old 


events  under  new  forms ;  in  genealogy 
it  is  still  more  indisputable  that  various  types 
of  the  human  race  repeat  themselves ;  say,  in 
four  generations,  sometimes  more  and  some- 
times less,  after  having  lain  dormant  during  the 
intermediate  time. 

The  late  well-known  Dr.  Knox,  of  physiolo- 
gical celebrity,  gives  various  instances  of  this 
last-named  fact  in  his  popular  work  on  the  Races 
of  Man  ;  and  almost  every  family,  possessing  a 
portrait-gallery  of  its  own  ancestry,  can  attest 
the  truth,  that  there  is  nothing  new  under  the 
sun  ;  that,  for  example,  the  picture  of  some 
brilliant  brunette,  smiling  down   upon  you,  re- 


iv  PREFACE. 

sembles  not  her  own  flaxen-haired  mother,  but 
either  her  great-grandmother,  or  some  still  more 
distant  ancestress,  who,  thanks  to  immortal  art, 
irradiates  the  place  long  since  assigned  to  her 
by  some  Vandyck,  or  Peter  Lely*  of  her  day, 
from  which  place  she  looks  down  as  though 
amused  at  the  modern  beholder's  astonishment 
that  such  grace  and  beauty  as  hers  can  never 
die. 

Likewise,  do  moral  and  physical  diseases  re- 
produce themselves  ;  so  that  when  humanity  at 
large  is  warned  by  the  Decalogue  that  the  sins 
of  the  father  shall  be  visited  upon  future  gene- 
rations, it  is  not,  as  some  have  presumed,  an 
unjust  decree  against  the  yet  unborn,  but  a  mer- 
ciful warning  of  appeal  to  parental  love — one  of 
the  least  generally  selfish  instincts  of  humanity  ; 
— for,  since  the  days  of  Adam  and  Eve,  the 
origin  of  death  and  this  life's  hereditary  suffer- 
ing-— is  it  not  sin  ? 

Students  of  peerages,  or  any  authentic  family 
history  comprising  four,  or  more  than  forty 
generations,  cannot   fail    to    be   struck  by  this 


PREFACE.  v 

system  of  resuscitation,  which  Nature  reveals  in 
the  highest,  as  in  the  lowest,  of  earth's  creatures. 
In  personages  of  royal  or  historic  race,  it  is 
easy  to  trace  the  origin  of  a  virtue  or  a  vice, 
of  qualities  noble  or  ignoble,  of  beauty  or 
deformity,  simply  because  the  chronicles  of 
such  race  have  been  carefully  preserved. 
Amongst  families  of  lower  rank,  scattered  by 
misfortune,  or  any  other  circumstance,  the  clue 
to  one's  own  identity  is  often  lost,  so  that  it  may 
not  only  be  "  a  wise  child  who  knows  his  own 
father,"  but,  though  of  undoubted  faith  as  to 
his  own  immediate  parentage,  there  is  such  a 
want  of  genealogical  trees,  of  maps,  to  guide 
him  along  the  stream  of  his  own  life,  back 
through  the  mists  of  time,  to  the  real  source  or 
sources  of  such  life,  that  the  only  lesson  to  be 
learnt  from  the  vain  attempt  to  explore  its 
origin  is  that  of  mercy  to  his  own  brethren  at 
home,  who,  though  born  of  the  same  parents  as 
himself,  resemble  neither  him  nor  either  of 
them,  morally  or  physically,  some  other  type 
having  been  caught  up  by  the  way  through  the 


vi  PREFACE. 

unknown  past.  In  such  a  case  imagination  may 
supply  a  large  margin  for  facts ;  but  it  is  an  un- 
doubted privilege  for  all  human  beings,  desirous 
of  knowing  themselves,  to  count  their  charac- 
teristics by  centuries. 

Henri  V.,  by  hereditary  right  king  of  France, 
can  do  this.  Known  only  to  the  present  (1873) 
world  at  large  as  the  Comte  de  Chambord,  he 
is  the  one  surviving  representative  of  nearly  a 
thousand  years  of  French  royalty — dating  by  the 
threefold  annals  of  French  legitimists — and  it  is 
remarkable  how  in  some  things  he  resembles 
not  only  his  great-uncle  Louis  XVI.,  who,  as 
the  "  son  of  Saint  Louis/'  was  exhorted  on  the 
scaffold  by  the  Abbe  Edgeworth  to  "ascend  to 
heaven,"  but  also  how  his  character  recalls  that 
of  his  pious  ancestress,  Marie  Lecskinska,  of 
whom  it  was  said  by  her  contemporary,  Madame 
de  Pompadour,  "the  Queen  is  indeed  enviable, 
for  she  lays  down  the  burthen  of  all  her  trou- 
bles at  the  foot  of  the  cross."  Still  more  does 
he  resemble  his  great  grand-parents,  who,  in  the 
midst  of  the  corrupt  court  of  Louis  XV.,  were 


PREFACE.  vif 

noted  for  their  devotion  to  the  decrees  of  the 
church.  Son  of  the  popular  Duke  and  brilliant 
Duchess  de  Berri,  the  Comte  de  Chambord  is 
like  unto  neither  of  them.  This  may  be  attri- 
butable to  the  fact  of  his  earlier  life  having  been 
spent  under  the  guidance  of  his  aunt,  the  saintly 
Duchess  of  Angouleme ;  but  neither  did  she 
resemble  her  naturally  vivacious  mother,  Queen 
Marie  Antoinette,  except  in  courage,  which 
quality  was  so  signally,  though  unavailingly, 
displayed  at  Bordeaux  by  the  Duchess  of 
Angouleme  when  striving  (by  her  own  presence 
and  that  of  the  Drapeau  Blanc)  to  incite  the 
nominally  royal  troops  there  to  arrest  the  pro- 
gress through  France  of  Napoleon,  after  his 
escape  from  Elba,  that  the  great  Conqueror, 
just  named,  declared  this  princess  to  be  "  the 
only  man  of  her  family/' 

Indeed,  it  is  observable  that  ever  since  the 
days  of  Clothilde,  first  Christian  queen-consort 
of  France,  in  answer  to  whose  prayers  the  Fleur 
de  lys  is  traditionally  declared  to  have  been 
accorded  to  that  country  by  a   heavenly  mes- 


viii  PREFACE. 

senger,  French  princes  have  generally  deve- 
loped qualities  inherited  from  the  female  rather 
than  the  male  line.  It  is  even  so  in  this  our 
own  day  amongst  princes  of  the  house  of  Or- 
leans, who  (since  the  revolution  of  1848  dis- 
played the  undaunted  courage  of  the  widowed 
and  ordinarily  meek  Helene,  Duchess  of  Or- 
leans, ere  exiling  her  and  them  from  France), 
have  variously  manifested  the  noble  qualities  of 
Queen  Marie  Amelie  (mother  of  the  elder, 
grandmother  of  the  younger  of  them),  she  again 
having  (like  her  kinswoman,  the  Duchess  of 
Angouleme)  inherited  the  heroic  characteristics 
of  her  grandmother,  Maria  Theresa,  Empress 
of  Austria,  surnamed  "  King  of  Hungary." 
From  the  same  source,  likewise,  did  the 
Duchess  de  Berri  derive  her  heroism,  various 
proofs  of  which  are  given  in  the  following 
pages. 

In  the  Imperial  family  of  France,  it  is  not  less 
remarkable  that  the  type  of  statuesque  beauty 
distinguishing  many  of  its  members,  famed  both 
for  valour  and  intellect,  is  inherited  from  Laetitia 


PREFACE.  ix 

Bonaparte,  the  "  Madame  Mere"  of  Napoleon  I., 
his  brothers  and  sisters. 

Any  guest  at  the  Palais  Royal,  until  recent 
events  drove  forth  Imperialism  from  France, 
can  remember  how,  in  the  person  of  Prince 
Napoleon,  the  host  of  that  historic  and  hos- 
pitable abode,  the  memory  of  "  Madame  Mere' 
is  revived  ;  and  here  it  may  be  said  that  in  Italy 
and  the  South  of  Europe,  whence  came  the  Na- 
poleonic race,  nature  seems  to  delight  in  repro- 
ducing the  same  type  more  frequently  than  in 
northern  climes,  and  amongst  people  of  a  more 
mixed  race. 

In  the  person  and  character  of  Caroline 
Bonaparte,  sister  of  the  first  Emperor  of  the 
French,  the  attributes  generally  assigned  to 
noble  Roman  matrons,  ere  Rome's  decline  and 
fall,  are  discoverable.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
fair  Queen  Hortense,  mother  of  Napoleon  III. 
in  no  way  personally  resembles  her  creole  mo- 
ther, the  Empress  Josephine  ;  and  yet  it  was  in 
the  name  and  by  an  eloquent  tribute  to  the 
memory  of  that  Empress,  so  dear  to  the  heart  of 


x  PREFACE. 

France,  so  loving  and  beloved,  yet  unfortunate, 
that  Napoleon  III.  first  announced  his  approach- 
ing marriage  to  the  now  widowed  Empress 
Eugenie. 

Emperors  and  kings  propose,  but  God  dis- 
poses. Napoleon  I.  might  well  have  spared 
himself  the  agony  of  divorce  from  Josephine,  on 
account  of  her  presenting  him  with  no  son  to 
perpetuate  his  dynasty,  when  it  was  destined 
that  in  the  person  of  her  grandson  (son  of  Hor- 
tense,  her  daughter  by  a  former  marriage)  the 
Empire  would  be  revived.  Indeed,  the  best 
claim  of  Napoleon  III.  to  the  sympathies  of 
France  lay  in  his  descent,  not  from  the  first 
Emperor,  but  from  "  the  good  Empress,"  as 
Josephine  is  still  called  in  the  land  where  the 
courtesy  and  urbanity  of  manner  displayed  by 
her  grandson,  were  known  to  be  inherited 
from  her.* 


*  Of  this  courtesy  the  present  writer  has  grateful  cause  to  speak,  for 
it  was  originally  extended  to  her  by  the  Emperor  Napoleon  III.  when, 
some  few  years  since,  her  first  work  on  French  Affairs  ("  Secret 
History  of  the  Court  of  France  under  Louis  XV.")  was  published. 
And  here  it  may  be  remarked  that  as  the  work  just  named  was  mainly 


PREFACE.  xi 

Concerning  Madame  Tallien,  the  republican 
heroine  now  presented  to  English  readers,  it 
need  only  here  be  said  that  she  was  typical  of 
her  time. 

At  no  other  period  save  that  of  rapid  dynastic 
changes,  resulting  from  the  chaos  of  a  blood- 
red  revolution,  could  the  strange  drama  of  such 
a  life  as  hers  have  been  enacted. 

But  in  the  case  of  each  and  all  the  illustrious 
women  of  France  who  occupy  this  present 
volume,  it  will  be  seen  how — despite  the  old 
Salic  law,  which  precludes  female  succession  in 
its  own  right  to  the  throne  of  France — woman 
has  ever  been  dominant  in  that  country,  let  the 
banner  waving  over  its  palaces  and  its  armies 
have  been  what  it  may. 

Whence  this  supreme   influence  of  Woman 

favourable  to  France  under  Monarchy,  the  Imperial  recognition  of  it 
was  the  more  signally  generous. 

That  the  Empress  Eugenie,  when  yet  at  the  Tuileries,  participated  in 
her  august  Consort's  encouragement  of  English  literature  on  French 
subjects,  the  present  writer  has  also,  with  many  thanks,  reason  to 
affirm  ;  for  it  was  from  her  Majesty's  genial  acceptance  of  an  opuscule 
entitled  "  Trianon  and  Malmaison,"  that'  "  Memories  of  French 
Palaces  "  eventuated. 


xii  PREFACE. 

over  France  ?  Certainly  it  was  not  derived 
from  any  Act  of  Parliament,  but  from  the  in- 
vincible force  of  love — the  mighty  love  out  of 
which  springs  heroism  ;  the  love,  whether  of 
wives,  or  mothers,  or  daughters  ;  the  noble  and 
self-sacrificing,  love  of  woman 

A.  E.  C. 

Uiter  Wimpole  Street, 
May,  1873. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

MADAME  TALLIEN i 


EMPRESS    JOSEPHINE,    QUEEN    HORTENSE,     AND 

CAROLINE   BONAPARTE 49 

DUCHESSE    D'ANGOULEME     AND     DUCHESSE    DE 

BERRI 119 

QUEEN        MARIE        AMELIE       AND        DUCHESSE 

D'ORLEANS        .        .        .  ' 213 

EMPRESS  EUGENIE         AND  PRINCESS 

MATHILDE 323 


LIST    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS. 

PAGE 

MADAME   TALLIEN Frontispiece 

EMPRESS  JOSEPHINE to  face  51 

QUEEN  HORTENSE to  face  79 

S.  A.  R.   MADAME  DUCHESSE  DE  BERRI        .     to  face  121 

QUEEN   MARIE   AMELIE to  face  215 

S.  A.  R.  DUCHESSE  D'ORLEANS     .                  .         to  face  267 

THE   EMPRESS   EUGENIE ?2i 


MADAME   TALLIEN, 

THE    VENUS    OF    THE    CAPITOL 

AND 

EGERIA  OF  THE  MOUNTAIN,   ETC. 


ILLUSTRIOUS    WOMEN 
OF    FRANCE. 


MADAME    TALLIEN. 


T  was  in  the  Parisian  studio  of  Madame 
le  Brun,  not  long  before  the  outburst 
of  "  the  great "  French  Revolution,  that 
a  portrait  was  one  day  exhibited  of  a 
young  lady,  who,  though  not  long 
since  arrived  in  Paris  from  Spain,  was 
already  married  to  a  French  nobleman 
of  the  ancien  regime. 

The  maiden  name  of  this  lady  was 
Terezia  Cabarrus;  she  was  the  daughter 
of  a  rich  Spanish  banker,  whose  extensive  and  varied 
speculations — always  more  or  less  successful — had 
caused  him  to  be  regarded  both  in  France  and  Spain 
as  the  successor  of  the  notorious  John  Law,  of 
Mississippi  paper-money  fame.     She  was  the  wife  of 


4  ILLUSTRIOUS    WOMEN   OF  FRANCE. 

the  elegant,  though  somewhat  aged,  Marquis  de 
Fontenay,  the  cut  of  whose  lace  ruffles,  the  shape  of 
whose  newest  of  a  hundred  or  more  fantastic  snuff- 
boxes, the  colour  of  whose  favourite  horses,  the  repu- 
tation of  whose  latest  bon  mot,  and  the  splendour  of 
whose  recent  fetes  given  at  his  chateau  near  Versailles 
in  honour  of  his  marriage,  were  each  and  all  of  them 
favourite  themes  of  conversation  amongst  the  then 
"  gilded  youth  "  of  Paris. 

But  far  beyond  the  enthusiasm  aroused  by  any  of 
these  things  appertaining  to  the  Marquis  de  Fontenay 
was  that  inspired  in  the  hearts  of  his  most  aristocratic 
countrymen  by  the  beauty,  the  grace,  the  intelligence 
of  the  young  wife  he  had  recently  espoused  and  pre- 
sented to  the  then  still  fastidious  society  of  his  class 
in  France. 

In  her  the  voluptuous  grace  of  a  Spanish  woman 
was  united  with  the  brilliant  vivacity  of  a  French 
woman  ;  she  had  been  educated  with  her  brothers  in 
Spain,  and  this  with  such  effect  that  she  was  clever 
enough  to  conceal  the  amount  of  her  learning.  She 
had  been  entrusted  by  her  still  young  father  to  the 
care  and  diaperonage  of  a  distinguished  French  lady, 
and  from  her  house  and  hands  she  had  passed  into 
those  of  the  Marquis  de  Fontenay,  whose  eyes  were 
charmed  with  the  sight  of  her  beauty,  and  whose  wit 


MADAME  TALLIEN. 


was  fascinated  by  the  esprit  which,  in  her  every  word 
and  action,  unconsciously  revealed  itself. 

The  chief  charm  of  the  young  Marquise  was  that  of 
extraordinary  mobility  of  character ;  she  was  every- 
thing by  turns,  but  nothing  long  ;  her  outward  form 
and  features  were  expressive  of  the  rapid  evolutions 
of  an  ardent  soul ;  she  danced  like  a  sylph — Spanish 
dances,  castanets  in  hand  ;  she  walked  like  a  queen, 
conscious  of  the  majesty  of  womanhood  ;  she  rode 
like  Diana,  but  looking  forth  from  under  her  plumed 
hat  with  a  pair  of  provoking  eyes  scarcely  consistent 
with  some  other  attributes  of  that  goddess  en  Ama- 
zone  ;  she  played  on  various  instruments  in  a  way  to 
madden  all  the  Gluckistes  and  Piccinistcs  of  her  time, 
for  Nature  rather  than  either  of  those  rival  great 
masters  had  been  her  teacher ;  and  she  loved — well, 
how  did  she  love  ?  The  few  following  pages  may  in 
some  sort  answer  this  question ;  albeit,  volume 
would  not  suffice  to  do  so  fully. 

She,  Ter^zia,  Marquise  de  Fontenay  nee  Cabarrus, 
believed  that  she  loved  her  husband  just  at  that  time 
when,  as  herebefore  said,  she  was  having  her  portrait 
painted  by  Madame  le  Brun,  that  gifted  perpetuator 
for  posterity  of  queens  of  the  right  and  queens  of  the 
left  hand. 

But  Madame  le  Brun,  a  charming  figure  herself  in 


6  ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF  FRANCE. 

the  midst  of  her  own  studio — a  loving  woman,  who 
had  been  disappointed  by  her  marriage  with  a  cold- 
hearted  spendthrift  who,  without  appreciating  her 
genius,  had  appropriated  to  himself  the  pecuniary- 
results  of  it,  was  puzzled  ;  for  every  time  she  glanced 
at  the  Marquise  de  Fontenay,  sitting  there  before  her, 
the  countenance  and  character  of  that  fair  model 
seemed  to  change,  from  grave  to  gay,  from  smiles  to 
tears,  from  plaintiveness  to  merry  mockery.  What 
was  Madame  le  Brun  to  do  ?  Many  brave  and  still 
more  brilliant  Frenchmen  were  admitted  to  her  atelier 
that  day,  and  it  was  by  her  wish  that  they  all,  more 
or  less,  conversed  with  Madame  de  Fontenay,  so  as 
to  keep  her  countenance — statuesque  in  repose,  like 
her  flexible  form  when  at  rest — in  full  play ;  and  it 
was  just  this  that  dazzled  the  portrait-painter,  for 
every  time  that  she  looked  up  from  her  canvas  to  the 
individual  she  was  endeavouring  to  portray  upon  it, 
that  individual  had,  Proteus  like,  changed.  Yes  ;  the 
artist  had  requested  her  most  distinguished  "  conver- 
sationalist "  countrymen  to  "  draw  out "  the  Spanish- 
born  Madame  de  Fontenay,  and  this  request  had  been 
so  rapturously  complied  with  by  them,  that  neither 
they,  nor  she,  nor  the  Marquise  herself  had  calculated 
on  its  consequences.  Hence,  all  sorts  of  different 
opinions  concerning  the  portrait  itself  began  to  find 


MADAME  TALLIEN. 


utterance  in  the  atelier  of  the  gifted  but  much  per- 
plexed Madame  le  Brun.  One  amateur  critic,  looking 
over  her  right  shoulder,  first  at  the  picture  and  then 
at  the  original,  declared  concerning  the  former  that  the 
eyes  were  too  large ;  another,  that  they  were  too  small; 
a  third,  over  poor  Madame  le  Brun's  left  shoulder, 
protested  that  the  mouth  on  canvas  was  too  smiling  ; 
a  fourth,  eagerly  peering  forward  to  catch  a  glimpse 
of  the  picture,  asserted  that  it  was  too  sad.  These, 
growing  angry  in  their  critical  disputes,  but  moving 
off,  and  eventually  taking  snuff  together  in  their 
fingers  sparkling  with  rings  but  none  the  less 
capable  of  wielding  the  sword  (indeed,  too  capable, 
considering  the  then  frequency  of  duels),  a  fifth  and 
a  sixth  took  their  places  by  the  easel,  and  quickly 
discovered  a  form  of  difference  in  the  rendering  of 
Madame  de  Fontenay's  exquisite  little  nose,  which 
combined  the  dignity  of  the  aquiline  with  the  saucy 
and  retrousse"  characteristic  of  that  feature.  The 
colour  of  Madame  de  Fontenay's  eyes,  whether  black, 
blue,  or  grey  (according,  perhaps,  as  she  turned  to 
or  from  the  light,  or  as  a  sad  or  merry  thought  alter- 
nately animated  or  shaded  them) ;  the  exact  hue  of 
the  dark  hair,  concealing  yet  revealing  her  noble 
brow  and  classic  head  ;  the  successive  animation 
and  languor  of  her  various  gestures,  each  one,  for  the 


8  ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF  FRANCE. 

moment,  more  graceful  than  the  other  ;  even  the  pro- 
portions of  her  figure,  so  full  yet  slender,  so  majestic 
yet  youthful,  so  tall  yet  so  mignonne,  that  even  its  very 
neight  seemed  either  to  increase  or  decrease  according 
to  the  emotions  of  the  mind  which  unconsciously 
dictated  every  attitude  : — each  point  in  that  portrait 
of  Madame  de  Fontenay  was  one  of  argument  to 
those  who  beheld  it,  and  no  unanimity  of  opinion  was 
possible  amongst  those  who  gazed  on  it  that  day  in 
the  atelier  of  Madame  le  Brun  ;  none,  save  as  to  the 
beauty,  the  something  more  than  beauty — the  name- 
less charm,  the  fascination  of  its  original,  who  was  still 
seated  in  full  view  of  these  amateur  and  amatory  critics. 

Amongst  them  was  a  certain  Count  de  Rivarol,  a 
would-be  author,  for  at  that  time,  and  indeed  since 
the  time  of  "  le  Roy  Voltaire,"  men  of  fashion  in 
France  were  ambitious  of  becoming  men  of  letters. 
M.  de  Rivarol  had  written  a  political  pamphlet,  which 
was  still  in  the  printer's  hands  ;  but,  however  eager 
he  had  been  for  its  publication — eager  as  noble  but 
not  yet  distinguished  authors  are  wont  to  be, — he  had 
that  day  forgotten  it  in  his  charmed  contemplation  of 
Madame  de  Fontenay,  of  her  infinite  variety,  and  of 
the  canvas  which  refused  to  give  but  one  and  not  a 
thousand  Mesdames  de  Fontenay. 

But  an  intelligent  young    printer  named  Tallien, 


MADAME  TALLIEN. 


not  having  yet  seen  this  lady  so  far  above  him  in  rank, 
had  not  forgotten  his  duty  to  the  pamphlet  of  which 
the  writer  was,  for  the  moment,  oblivious  ;  and  failing 
to  find  him  at  home  when  he  called  upon  him  with 
the  "  proof,"  or  first  copy  of  it,  but  being  told  by  one 
of  his  "  liveried  lackeys,"  and  especially  by  his  favorite 
housekeeper,  where  he  was,  hastened  after  him  to  the 
studio  of  Madame  le  Brun.  The  Count,  thus  suddenly 
reminded  of  his  literary  bantling  (which,  in  general, 
is  more  difficult  for  an  amateur  author  to  forget  than 
for  a  "  sucking  child" — the  first  one — to  be  forgotten 
by  its  mother),  requested  Madame  le  Brun's  permis- 
sion to  invite  the  young  printer  into  her  atelier. 
Consent  "was  granted,  and  in  a  moment  afterwards 
Tallien  stood  in  the  midst  of  that  distinguished  com- 
pany, and,  for  the  first  time,  in  presence  of  the 
Marquise  de  Fontenay. 

M.  de  Rivarol,  or  Madame  le  Brun,  or  perhaps 
both,  already  knew  something  of  the  young  printer's 
capacity  as  an  [art-critic — thanks  to  the  good  old 
French  custom  of  each  critic  signing  his  published 
criticism  with  his  name,  and  Tallien  was  therefore 
requested  to  give  his  opinion  of  the  [Marquise  de 
Fontenay 's  portrait,  just  at  the  moment  when  such 
opinion  was  wanted.  He  looked  at  the  portrait  and 
then  at  the  living  subject  of  it,  seated  there  in  full 


io  ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF  FRANCE. 

view  of  him  ;  she  looked  at  him,  and  saw  a  remark- 
ably handsome  and  apparently  intelligent  man,  with 
all  the  fire  of  youth,  and  genius,  and  courage  beaming 
in  his  fine  countenance — a  young  man  below  her  in 
station,  as  proved  by  the  mission  on  which  he  came, 
but  equal,  to  say  the  least,  in  elegance  of  manner  to 
any  one  of  the  many  noble  and  distinguished  men 
who  stood  around  him,  eagerly  awaiting  his  opinion 
of  her  own  portrait.     At  last  Tallien  spoke. 

"  Madame,"  said  he,  addressing  himself  to  Madame 
le  Brun,  but  still  furtively  glancing  at  the  Marquise 
de  Fontenay,  "  Madame,  I  just  now  heard  the  utter- 
ance of  an  opinion  amongst  some  of  the  illustrious 
critics  near  me"  (bowing  to  them)  "that  you  had  made 
the  eyes  of  this  portrait  too  small  and  the  mouth  too 
large  ;  but  it  seems  to  me  that  if  you  lower  the  upper 
eyelid  just  a  little,  and  if  you  open,  almost  impercep- 
tibly, the  corner  of  the  lip,  you  will  define — as  nearly, 
perhaps,  as  art  can  define  inimitable  nature — some- 
thing of  the  charm  and  the  character  of  this  counten- 
ance, the  outline  of  which  is  so  firm,  but  in  which 
expression  plays  the  chief  part.  The  sun  is  best  seen 
through  the  branches  of  a  tree  ;  and  therefore  it 
also  seems  to  me  that  those  eyes  will  be  none  the  less 
brilliant  because  seen  through  their  long  eyelashes. 
This  mouth  will  be  none  the  less  handsome,  and  all 


MADAME  T ALLIEN.  ir 

the  more  eloquent  of  wit  and  intellect,  if  the  corner 
of  it  be  turned  and  united  to  the  cheek.  Concerning 
minor  details,"  he  hastily  continued,  "  you  could  not 
have  done  better  than  shade  this  radiant  countenance 
with  the  hat  you  have  placed  upon  the  head  above  it, 
for  by  this  article  of  costume  you  produce  an  effect 
similar  to  those  never  to  be  forgotten  in  the  portraits 
by  Velasquez." 

At  the  name  of  this  great  artist,  her  countryman, 
Madame  de  Fontenay  spoke  for  the  first  time  to 
Tallien.  "You  know  Velasquez?"  asked  she.  Tallien 
bowed  in  reply,  and  then  retreated  to  the  back- 
ground, where  the  Comte  de  Rivarol  was  reading  his 
proofs. 

Whilst  Tallien  stands  there  with  seeming  humility, 
awaiting  the  Count's  literary  directions,  but  secretly 
gazing  from  afar  on  the  Marquise  de  Fontenay,  on 
whom  not  one  word  of  his  criticism  regarding  her 
portrait  had  been  lost,  it  may  here  be  asked  who 
were  his  parents — what  his  origin  ? 

The  story  of  his  early  life,  though  a  doubtful  one, 
is  soon  told.  He  was,  so  some  said,  the  son  of  a  noble- 
man's porter;  but  by  others  it  was  declared  that  he  was 
the  son  of  this  nobleman  himself,  by  the  porter's  wife. 

In  any  case,  a  good  provision  for  his  education  was 
made.     The  porter  grew  tired  of  the  presence  in  his 


12  ILLUSTRIOUS    WOMEN   OF   FRANCE. 

home  of  a  studious,  or,  as  he  considered,  a  lazy 
youth,  and  the  youth  himself  felt  that,  for  some 
reason  best  or  worst  known,  perhaps,  by  his  mother, 
he  by  no  means — despite  his  beauty  and  intelligence — 
was  a  subject  of  concord  under  his  parental  roof. 
Wherefore  he  was  glad  at  last  to  find  that  means 
were  somehow  provided  for  the  continuance  of  his 
education  in  Paris,  and  thither  he  came  from  his 
provincial  home,  it  having  been  mysteriously  indicated 
to  him  that,  at  a  given  time,  he  must  pursue  one  of 
the  learned  professions — embrace  one  of  "  the  three 
black-robed  graces,"  in  fact — for  a  livelihood. 

At  first  the  gaieties  of  the  capital  distracted  him 
from  his  studies,  but  presently  recovering  from  the 
vertigo  into  which  these  had  plunged  him,  he  even- 
tually, as  here  already  told,  became  a  printer's 
assistant,  then  a  compositor  for  the  press,  and,  about 
this  same  time,  an  art  critic. 

He  was  singularly  handsome,  easy  and  graceful  in 
manner,  and  of  ambitious  intellect.  He  watched  the 
signs  of  his  times  with  keen  intelligence,  and  soon 
became  remarkable  for  the  boldness  of  his  political 
opinions,  although  by  no  means  affecting  the  ex- 
aggeration of  either  speech,  or  manner,  or  costume 
which  then  gradually  displayed  itself  amongst  young 
men  of  his  class — that  citizen  class  to  which  he  did 


MADAME  T ALU  EN.  13 

not  seem  in  any  way  to  belong,  save  by  the  revolu- 
tionary doctrines  which  were  rife  in  it. 

From  the  moment  he  beheld  T6r£zia  Cabarrus, 
Marquise  de  Fontenay,  far  removed  from  him  in 
station  though  she  was,  and  seemingly  separated  from 
him  by  insuperable  obstacles,  his  life  was  at  her  ser- 
vice, for  an  unacknowledged  love  for  her  had  taken 
possession  of  him — a  love  of  which  she  could  have  no 
suspicion  at  first,  even  though  she  soon  again  met  him 
at  the  house  of  the  politically  celebrated  brothers 
Lameth.  The  signs  of  the  coming  Revolution  re- 
vealed themselves ;  the  first  bloodjwas  shed, — that  best 
blood  which  was  soon  to  deluge  France  ;  and  in  the 
year  1792  Tallien,  already  a  conspicuous  advocate  of 
revolutionary  measures,  his  zeal  for  which  had  kindled 
almost  at  the  same  time  as  his  secret  passion  for  the 
wife  of  an  aristocrat,  was  appointed  Secretary-General 
of  the  Commune.  He  was  sent  out  on  several 
political  missions,  and  by  one  of  these  was  trans- 
planted from  Paris  to  Bordeaux  in  1793.  The  Mar- 
quis de  Fontenay,  like  most  other  French  nobles 
determined  to  escape  from  the  guillotine,  had  already 
fled  from  France,  and  found  a  refuge  in  Spain,  the 
native  land  of  his  wife.  Thither,  though  not  by 
this  time  too  happy  in  her  marriage,  she  was 
travelling   in   order    to   rejoin    him,  when   at    Bor 


14  ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF   FRANCE. 

deaux  she  was  arrested  as  an   aristocrate,  and  cast 
into  prison. 

The  offence  alleged  against  her  was  that  she  had 
paid  money  to  the  captain  of  an  English  ship  in  order 
to  expedite  the  departure  of  several  French  emigrants, 
the  list  and  names  of  whom  were  concealed  in  her 
bosom.  A  mob  surrounded  her,  the  brutal  leader  of 
this  mob  had  endeavoured  to  thrust  his  coarse  hand 
within  her  dress  in  order  to  secure  this  list ;  proudly 
Madame  de  Fontenay  defended  herself,  and,  fearing 
for  the  safety  of  those  whom  she  had  generously 
assisted,  tore  the  paper  with  her  teeth,  and  scattered 
it  to  the  winds. 

Tallien,  acting  then  at  Bordeaux  as  pro-consul,  was 
called  forth  into  the  principal  square  of  that  city 
there  to  calm  the  riot ;  and,  gazing  with  astonish- 
ment at  the  accused,  he  again  beheld  Madame  de 
Fontenay.  "  Stay,"  he  shouted  to  the  crowd,  in  the 
revolutionary  language  of  the  time,  "stay,  I  know 
this  woman.  If  guilty,  she  belongs  to  justice  ;  you 
are  too  magnanimous  to  strike  an  unarmed  enemy, 
and  especially  when  this  enemy  is  a  woman."  The 
fury  of  the  sans-culottes  and  bonnet  rouge  mob  was 
stayed  ;  though  not  even  Tallien  himself  could  pre- 
vent her  being  conveyed  to  prison.  But,  on  the  other 
hand,  nothing  could  prevent  his  visiting  her  in  that 


MADAME  T ALLIEN.  15 

prison,  for  even  his  official  duties  facilitated  his  so 
doing  ;  and,  therefore,  it  came  to  pass  that  one  day 
when  she  was  wondering  as  to  the  fate  awaiting  her  ; 
when  rats,  crawling  forth  from  dark  corners,  threatened 
to  gnaw  her  feet  (those  feet  which  might  in  their 
beauty  have  served  as  models  for  a  modern  Phidias) ; 
when,  crouched  on  the  damp  ground,  she  was  thinking 
not  only  of  the  possible  guillotine  awaiting  her,  but  of 
her  past  life,  which  had  bitterly,  despite  its  fugitive 
splendour,  deceived  her, — for  her  husband  had 
gradually  become  known  to  her  as  a  libertine  and  a 
gambler, — the  door  of  her  dungeon  suddenly  creaked 
on  its  hinges,  and  Tallien,  in  all  the  plenitude  and 
strength  of  his  manly  beauty  and  political  power,  but 
followed  by  a  gaoler,  stood  before  her.  Who  can  say 
with  what  thrill  at  his  heart  he  again  identified  her  ! 
But  it  was  not  there  that  her  final  examination  as  a 
supposed  offender  against  the  French  Republic  could 
take  place.  Was  this  apparition  of  Tallien  only  a 
dream  on  the  part  of  Terezia  de  Fontenay,  ncc 
Cabarrus  ? 

No  ;  this  "  terrible  Tallien,  this  Tallien  pro-consul, 
who  was  then  reigning  imperiously  at  Bordeaux,"  was 
he  who,  in  presence  of  his  "  fellow  citizens,"  must 
examine  her  as  to  the  guilt  or  innocence  of  the 
political  offence  attributed  to  her. 


1 6         ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF  FRANCE. 

Pale,  with  her  large  dark  eyes  distended  by  suffer- 
ing, and  her  black  hair  flowing  like  a  mantle  on  her 
shoulders,  she  stood  in  his  presence. 

"  Citizen,"  asked  Tallien  of  her,  in  the  jargon  of  the 
time,  "why  are  you  at  Bordeaux  ?" 

"  Because,"  answered  she,  "  everybody  is  imprisoned 
in  Paris, — everybody,  even  revolutionists  ;  and  I,"  she 
added,  raising  her  proud  and  beautiful  face,  "  yes,  I, 
too,  am  a  revolutionist."  Afterwards  she  added,  "  It 
is  strange,  but  here,  as  in  Paris,  true  Republicans  are 
chained  and  captive." 

"  Citizen,"  asked  he,  "  do  you  know  of  what  you  are 
accused  ?" 

"  Of  everything,"  she  answered,  sarcastically ; 
"  most  likely  of  everything  because  I  am  guilty  of 
nothing." 

"  It  is  affirmed,"  he  replied,  gravely,  "  that  you 
were  about  to  emigrate  from  France  with  the  Marquis 
— that  is  the  ci-devant  Marquis  de  Fontenay." 

"  If  to  rejoin  my  father  in  Spain,  accompanied  by 
my  husband,  be  to  emigrate,"  she  replied,  "  I  certainly 
ivas  about  to  do  so." 

"  You  will  have  to  appear  before  our  tribunal,"  he 
observed. 

"Merciful  Heaven!"  she  exclaimed,  first  raising 
her  hand,  and  then  letting  it  fall  lightly  on  Tallien's 


MADAME    T ALLIEN.  17 

right  arm.  "Appear  before  a  tribunal,  when  this 
hand  of  mine  has  done  nothing  politically,  except  to 
prepare  and  cut  lint  for  the  wounded  of  the  10th  of 
August" 

Tallien  trembled  at  her  touch. 

"Do  you  recognise  me?"  she  asked  of  Tallien, 
and  so  as  not  to  be  heard  by  the  gaoler  or  "  turnkey  " 
present.  "Do  you  recognise  me,"  pointing  to  her 
prison-dress,  "in  this  disguise  ?" 

Tallien  bowed  ;  it  was  not  there  that  he  could  tell 
her  of  the  passionate  love  with  which  she  had  inspired 
him  since  that  first  moment  when  he  beheld  her  in 
the  studio  of  Madame  le  Brun.  He  ordered  the  turn- 
key to  summon  his  secretary,  who  had  accompanied 
him  to  the  prison,  but  who  had  not  entered  the  cell  of 
Terdzia  with  him. 

"  I  am  not  a  tyrant,"  said  Tallien  to  her,  when  thus 
at  last  alone  with  her ;  "  but  were  Robespierre  to 
know  that  I  had  betrayed  my  mission  for  the  sake  of 
a  beautiful  woman,  his  vengeance  would  know  no 
bounds." 

The  woman  standing  before  Tallien  was  something 
more  than  beautiful,  for  she  was  faithful  and  courageous 
in  answering. 

"  I  desire  my  liberty  ;  but  even  more  than  that  I 
implore  at  your  hands ;  for  being  uncertain  at  this 


1 8  ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF  FRANCE. 

instant  whether  my  husband  escaped  with  his  freedom 
to  Spain,  I  desire  his  liberty  :  I  should  regard  it  as  a 
greater  boon  than  my  own." 

Tallien  regarded  her  with  admiration  ;  then,  in  a 
voice  soft  with  emotion,  he  said,  "  I  was  told  that  you 
had  divorced  him." 

"  Perhaps  such  was  my  intention,"  she  answered, 
"  but  at  this  moment  of  misfortune  I  have  felt  so  much 
his  wife.  If  he  be  guilty  politically,  then  I  will  share 
his  fate  by  pleading  guilty  also.  And  yet,  to  prove 
my  patriotism,  I  here  declare  that  if  you  give  me  a 
robe  of  serge  I  will  work  in  hospitals  as  a  sister  of 
charity  and  nurse  to  the  Republican  sick  and 
wounded." 

Whilst  thus  speaking,  she  had  sunk  on  her  knees 
before  Tallien. 

He  raised  her,  and  then  for  the  first  time  pressed 
her  to  his  heart. 

"  My  own  head  is  at  stake  in  playing  this  game," 
said  he,  as  soon  as  he  could  speak,  "  but  liberty  is 
yours, — nay,  all  that  you  ask." 

The  turnkey  who  had  been  sent  for  Tallien's 
secretary,  but  does  not  seem  to  have  found  him,  re- 
turned at  this  moment,  and  that  same  day  he  wrote  to 
Robespierre,  "  The  Republic  is  betrayed :  aristocrats 
are  in  favour  with  Citizen  Tallien." 


MADAME    TALLIEN.  19 

TeV^zia  Cabarrus,  liberated  on  the  day  following, 
despite  the  tribunal  where  her  cause  was  already 
gained,  ere  she  appeared  before  it,  quickly  became,  as 
Tallien  expressed  it,  "the  Egeria  of  the  party  then 
called  the  Montagne,  as  Madame  Roland  *  had  of  the 

*  The  name  of  Madame  Roland  is  so  well  known  to  general  readers 
that  it  is  scarcely  necessary  here  to  remind  them  that  she,  the  daughter 
of  a  clever  but  dissipated  engraver,  early  displayed  extraordinary  talents. 
Her  chief  taste  was  for  classical  literature,  and,  doubtless,  whilst  making 
herself  intimately  acquainted  with  it,  she  imbibed  an  admiration  for  the 
ancient  republics  of  Greece  and  Rome.  Her  motherless  life  was  soli- 
tary ;  in  education  she  was  so  superior  to  her  station  in  society  that  it 
seems  to  have  formed  another  element  of  her  dawning  antagonism  to 
existing  facts,  especially  when,  on  a  youthful  visit  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  Versailles,  she  found  herself  far  removed  in  class  and  custom  and 
costume  from  the  Court  life,  of  which  she  caught  a  glimpse,  and  which 
formed  a  strange  contrast  to  the  ruined  home  of  her  spendthrift  father. 
When  she  was  between  twenty  and  thirty  years  of  age  she  married 
Roland  de  la  Platiere,  commonly  called  M.  Roland,  a  staid,  by  no 
means  young,  man  for  whom  she  had  a  great  respect.  He  was  in- 
spector of  manufactories  at  Lyons ;  had  travelled,  studied  much,  and 
written  a  little,  but  in  a  way  to  manifest  his  power  of  appreciation. 
By  this  marriage  survived  one  child,  a  daughter,  but  her  ultimate  fate 
is  doubtful.  At  the  time  of  the  Revolution  Madame  Roland  became 
vividly  interested,  the  more  so — it  is  said  by  some — because,  though 
untainted  in  reputation,  she  had  conceived,  or  rather  reciprocated,  a 
passion  (probably,  a  first  love)  for  one  of  the  Girondins,  to  which  political 
party  her  husband  belonged,  and  of  which  she  soon  became  the  centre. 
In  1792  she  had  to  give  evidence  before  the  bar  of  the  National  Con- 
vention, where  her  extraordinary  eloquence,  her  expressive  countenance, 
illumined  by  splendid  dark  eyes  and  shaded  by  black  hair,  attracted 
much  admiration.  Unaccustomed  to  society  as  she  had  been  before 
the  Revolution,  her  house  in  Paris  (after  her  husband  had,  for  a  brief 
space,  occupied  the  post  of  Cabinet  Minister  to  Louis  XVI.)  became 
the  rendezvous  of  the  chiefs  of  his  party.     In  her  entertainments  the 

c  2 


20  ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF  FRANCE. 

Gironde."  There  was  no  longer  any  question  of  the 
Marquis  de  Fontenay's  liberty,  as  long  as  he  did 
not  return  to  France,  and  henceforth  all  the  mercy 
still  to  be  found  in  that  distracted  country  seemed  to 
concentrate  itself  at  Bordeaux. 

Tallien  was  constantly  in  the  society  of  Terezia, 
and  in  proportion  as  her  influence  increased  over  him, 
the  guillotine  became  inactive  and  prison  doors  were 
opened. 

The  Marquise  de  Fontenay,  availing  herself  of  the 
then  new  law  of  France,  was  divorced  from  her 
husband,  whose  liberty  she  thus  doubly  secured  ;  but 
desirous  of  conferring  all  things  possible  on  Tallien — 
her  second  husband  and  first  love — she  wrote  to  the 
Marquis  for  restitution  of  her  diamonds  which  he  had 
carried  off  to  Spain  with  him. 

tastes  displayed  by  her  were  more  Athenian  than  Spartan, — the  result, 
possibly,  of  stem  classical  study  and  poetic  love  combined.  When  the 
downfall  of  the  Girondins  took  place  (May,  1793)  sne  was>  as  they 
were,  imprisoned,  and  it  was  then  that  she  wrote  great  part  of  her 
"  Memoires."  When  conveyed  to  the  scaffold  she  displayed  dauntless 
fortitude,  and  turning  from  her  executioners  towards  a  statue  of  Liberty 
near,  exclaimed,  ironically,  "Oh,  Liberty  !  what  crimes  are  committed 
in  thy  name  ! "  Her  husband  was  at  Rouen  when  the  news  of  her 
death  reached  him,  and,  sitting  down  beneath  a  tree  as  though  to 
reflect  what  to  him  the  world  would  be  without  her,  he  stabbed  himself 
to  the  heart.  After  death  the  attitude  and  appearance  of  this  "  philo- 
sopher" were  so  calm  that  various  passers-by  believed  him  to  be  merely 
asleep,  until  attention  was  roused  by  a  paper,  which  he  had  attached  to 
his  coat,  telling  who  he  was,  and  why  he  had  committed  suicide. 


MADAME    TALLIEN.  21 

"  Madame,"  was  the  old  reprobate  courtier's  answer, 
— "  madame,  as  my  wife  you  have  forfeited  all  right  to 
them  ;  but  I  will  restore  them  to  you  when  you  are 
my  mistress." 

If  in  her  heart  there  had  lingered  any  regret  for  the 
step  she  had  taken,  this  insulting  answer  cured  her 
of  it ;  and  henceforth  she  and  Tallien  appeared  in 
public  at  Bordeaux. 

But  Robespierre  was  watchful ;  he  waited  his  time, 
and  Tallien  was  recalled  to  Paris.  Here  a  terrible 
experience  awaited  Terezia,  who,  at  Bordeaux,  had 
endeavoured  to  stop  the  Reign  of  Terror  whilst  yet 
it  was  raging  in  the  heart,  the  capital,  of  France. 

In  love  with  the  Republic  from  a  classical  point  of 
view,  and  regarded  as  a  modern  Aspasia  (not  only 
because  of  her  devotion  to  Tallien,  the  Pericles  of  the 
Republic,  but  on  account  of  her  fervid  eloquence  in 
pleading  justice  and  mercy,  her  exquisite  taste  and 
urbanity  of  manner  manifested  in  the  various  recep- 
tions she  held,  her  Grecian  costume,  which  revealed 
rather  than  concealed  the  perfection  of  her  form),  she 
shuddered  at  the  thought  of  blood  still  flowing  from 
the  guillotine  in  Paris,  at  the  contact  of  brutal  sans- 
culottes, at  the  sight  and  sound  of  unsexed  women,  of 
infuriated  poissardcs,  awaiting  her  there. 

With  and   for  Tallien,  however,  she  was  willing  to 


22  ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF  FRANCE. 

bear  and  share  any  fate  ;  but  this  was  not  to  be,  for 
before  she  could  appear  by  his  side  in  Paris,  and  whilst 
yet  the  Convention  was  thrilling  with  her  brave  and 
beautiful  words,  spoken  through  him,  in  favour  of 
charity,  she  was  arrested  as  the  "  Citizen  Cabarrus 
Fontenay  "  and  conveyed  to  the  prison  of  La  Force, 
where  she  was  thrown  into  a  dungeon.  It  was  at 
Versailles  she  was  arrested  :  Tallien  was  detained  by 
duty  in  Paris.  The  next  day  a  friend  met  him  in  the 
Champs  Elysees  there,  so  wretched  and  dejected,  so 
full  of  terror  as  to  the  fate  of  the  woman  adored  by 
him,  that  his  friend  said,  "  Courage,  Tallien,  it  is  not 
possible  that  the  Citizen  Cabarrus  will  have  to  appear 
before  the  Revolutionary  tribunal  to-day.  Who  can 
tell  what  the  morrow  may  bring  forth  ?" 

Nothing  could  be  more  horrible  than  the  prison  in 
which  Terezia  now  found  herself,  to  judge  from  the 
accounts  of  the  few,  who,  once  incarcerated  there, 
survived  to  tell  the  tale  of  their  sufferings.  Damp 
and  dripping  walls  and  floor  of  brick  or  mud  ;  gaolers 
more  devils  than  men  ;  bloodhounds,  sometimes  more 
merciful  than  these  wretches,  to  aid  them ;  iron- 
barred  windows,  likely  to  let  in  wind,  hail,  and  rain 
through  broken  panes  ;  scanty  food  unfit  for  human 
use  ;  and  (that  which  struck  the  ci-devant  Marquise 
de    Fontenay   with    most    horror)    a  torn  and  hard 


MADAME    TALLIEN.  23 

mattress,  over  which  spiders  were  wont  to  crawl, 
whilst  hungry  rats,  of  which  Ter^zia  had  already  had 
terrible  experience,  could  be  heard  scratching  for  a 
hole  in  the  wall  by  which  they  might  escape  into  the 
prisoner's  cell. 

At  Bordeaux  she  had  been  worshipped  as  "  the 
Goddess  of  Pardon  : "  was  there  now  no  mercy  for 
her  ?  Above  all,  had  Tallien,  to  whom — although 
gradually  more  and  more  in  open  assembly  opposed 
to  Robespierre — great  political  power  was  still  as- 
cribed, had  he,  formerly  a  solicitor's  clerk,  then 
corrector  and  contributor  of  the  Moniteur  newspaper, 
then  secretary  for  the  Commune,  then  fierce  Repub- 
lican, even  to  opposing  a  grant  of  legal  counsel  to 
Louis  XVI.,  then  pro-consul  at  Bordeaux,  and  now, 
with  a  voice  still  strong  and  eloquent  to  speak  at  the 
Jacobin  Club  and  elsewhere  in  presence  of  Robes- 
pierre,— had  Tallien,  who,  because  of  his  adoration  for 
herself,  had  disarmed  the  military  tribunals,  and  had 
caused  the  guillotine  to  languish  for  want  of  blood  at 
Bordeaux, — had  he  forgotten  or  forsaken  her  ? 

Sickened,  perhaps,  more  by  the  thought  of  this 
possibility  than  by  the  physical  misery  she  was 
forced  to  undergo,  her  health  so  evidently  languished 
that  her  tyrants,  not  wishing  that  death  should 
deprive  them  of  so  beautiful  and  illustrious  a  victim, 


24  ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN    OF  FRANCE. 

granted  permission  for  her  at  evening  time  to  take 
occasional  air  and  exercise  in  one  of  the  high-walled 
courts  of  her  prison. 

The  first  evening  that  she  availed  herself  of  this 
favour  a  stone  suddenly  fell,  from  some  unknown 
upper  region,  at  her  feet.  Unobserved,  she  picked  up 
the  stone,  and  found  that  a  small  shred  of  paper  was 
bound  around  it.  Eagerly  she  detached  and  opened 
the  paper,  upon  the  inner  part  of  which  were  written 
some  words,  which  the  fast-fading  twilight  prevented 
her  deciphering.  She  secured  it  in  her  bosom,  and 
was  reconducted  to  her  cell.  In  fever  and  anxiety 
she  spent  that  night,  for  it  was  impossible  to  do  aught 
but  feel  the  touch  of  this  mysterious  paper  in  the 
darkness  by  which  she  was  encompassed.  At  last, 
when  the  first  rays  of  morning  came  struggling  through 
her  narrow  window,  she  rose  and  strained  her  eyes  to 
read  the  words  which,  to  her,  might  be  those  either  of 
life  or  death.  They  were  more,  for  they  were  words 
of  love— the  love  of  Tallien.  "  I  watch  over  you," 
said  these  words, — "  I  watch  and  wait.  Go  into  the 
courtyard  as  often  as  you  can  at  nine  o'clock  in 
the  evening  ;  I  shall  be  near  you." 

Near  her !  What  an  electric  flame  of  life — what  a 
flood  of  joy  in  her  heart  and  brain  at  these  words  ! 
Near  her !    but  how  ?      It  was  not  until  afterwards 


MADAME    T ALLIEN.  25 

that  she  knew  how  Tallien  had  rented  a  topmost 
garret  in  the  neighbourhood  stifling  around  her 
prison,  which  garret  was  a  little  above,  but  hardly  so, 
the  lofty  walls  of  the  yard  where  she  had  gained  per- 
mission to  take  exercise. 

It  is  impossible  to  say  how  Robespierre  gained 
information  of  this  fact,  but  suddenly  Terezia  was 
transferred  in  one  of  the  common  "  tumbrils  "  of  the 
time — a  cart  generally  used  for  conveying  victims  to 
the  guillotine — from  the  prison  of  La  Force  to  that  of 
the  Carmelites,  where  Josephine  de  Beauhamais, 
Madame  d'Aiguillon,  and  other  distinguished  women, 
in  daily  expectation  of  their  death,  were  incarcerated. 
But  the  re-assurance  of  Tallien's  love  had  given  fresh 
strength  to  her  soul,  and  she  no  longer  thought  of  the 
possibility  of  self-destruction  as  she  had  done  since 
her  first  arrest,  from  which  time  forth  she  had  kept 
concealed  about  her — how,  it  is  impossible  here  to 
say — a  small  dagger — a  mere  toy,  so  it  seemed — 
which  she  had  originally  brought  from  her  native 
Cadiz,  but  which,  whether  used  by  her  as  paper-knife 
or  in  private  theatricals,  had  been  often  seen  in  her 
hands  by  Tallien.  Her  kind  heart  (for,  with  all  the 
versatility  of  her  talents  and  beauty,  the  benevolent 
generosity  of  her  character  was  unchangeable)  was 
agonized  not  only  by  her  own  woes,  but  by  the  sight 


26  ILLUSTRIOUS    WOMEN   OF  FRANCE. 

of  sorrow  in  others.  She  was  a  witness  to  the  suffer- 
ing of  Josephine  de  Beauharnais,  caused  by  the 
execution  of  her  husband,  the  father  of  her  children. 
Neither  of  these  beautiful  and  loving  women,  fellow- 
prisoners,  could  then  foretell  that  "  the  citizen-widow 
Beauharnais,"  as  she  was  called,  would  one  day 
ascend  from  her  dungeon  to  the  throne  of  imperial 
France ;  but  in  prison  they  learned  to  appreciate  each 
other. 

The  heat  in  Paris  at  that  time  was  oppressive,  the 
heavy  air  seemed  laden  with  the  fumes  of  blood 
which  had  deluged  the  earth,  when  suddenly  one 
morning  Tallien  entered  his  study,  and  there, 
amongst  private  and  political  papers  awaiting  him, 
to  the  exclusion  of  general  visitors,  he  found  the 
glittering,  toy-looking,  but  mortally  dangerous  dagger 
which  he  had  often  seen  in  the  hands  of  his  adored 
Terezia.  He  made  inquiries  ;  nobody  of  his  house- 
hold could,  or  would  possibly,  tell  how  it  had  come 
there.  He  looked  at  and  felt  it.  The  touch  of  it 
gave  him  strength,  as  though  by  some  electric 
current.  What  did  it  mean  ?  That  day  he  met 
Robespierre  at  the  Commune.  Animosity,  on 
political  grounds,  had  long  been  growing  up  between 
them,  and  this  at  last  displayed  itself  even  in  public 
debate.     Robespierre  accused  Tallien,  in  a  tone  bitter 


MADAME  TALLIEN.  27 

and  ironical,  of  having  lost  his  strength,  like  Samson, 
since  he  had  fallen  into  the  soft  hands  of  a  woman. 
Stung  by  the  insult  more  to  Terezia  than  himself, 
Tallien  suddenly  comprehended  the  full  meaning  of 
the  dagger  ; — its  strength  flashed  into  his  mind.  He 
accused  Robespierre  of  making  women  and  children 
his  victims.  The  sound  of  the  tumbrils,  still  ever  and 
anon  passing  on  and  on  in  the  street  without,  on  their 
way  to  the  insatiable  guillotine,  formed  a  tragic 
chorus  to  the  few  and  seemingly  incomprehensible 
words  he  uttered  ;  indignation  for  the  wrongs  even  at 
that  moment  endured  by  the  woman  he  adored,  and 
a  horribly  sickening  fear  at  the  possibility  of  her  too 
being  crushed  out  of  life  by  the  cold-hearted  tyrant 
who  was  called  his  colleague,  —  all  these  thoughts 
nearly  maddened  Tallien  to  crime.  Did  the  dagger 
of  Terezia,  dear  to  him  because  something  belonging 
to  her,  lie  heavily  on  his  breast  ?  Why  not  plunge  it 
in  that  of  the  tyrant  ?  But,  as  though  by  some 
instinct,  Robespierre  turned  to  leave,  in  company 
with  his  admirer  and  follower,  David  the  painter^ 
who,  when  studying  the  contortions  of  victims  during 
the  previous  "  massacres  of  September,"  had  been 
wont  to  say,  whilst  mixing  his  palette  for  such  life — 
or  death — studies,  "  Rub  in  more  of  the  red — much 
more  of  the  red." 


28  ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF  FRANCE. 

Tallien  watched  Robespierre,  and  gazed  at  that 
tyrant's  careful  and  bloodless  countenance  as  he 
moved  away.  The  time  was  close  at  hand,  but  the 
hour  had  not  yet  struck.  Who  did  Tallien  take  into 
his  confidence  ?  It  would  seem  that  nobody  now  can 
exactly  answer  this  question,  for  the  deed  he  medi- 
tated was,  if  confided  to  anybody,  necessarily 
regarded  as  a  profound  secret  by  any  agent  he 
required  in  it.  At  that  hot  season  of  Thermidor, 
when  the  tears  of  widows  and  orphans  were  flowing, 
when  France  was  decimated  of  her  best  and  bravest 
men,  her  most  lovely  women,  Tallien  (humanized  by 
love,  and  agonized  by  anxiety  as  to  the  fate  which  at 
any  moment  might  overtake  the  beloved  of  his  soul — 
the  one  who  had  silently  but  eloquently  suggested  to 
him  the  means  of  deliverance  for  France  and  herself) 
by  his  own  agony  of  mind  expiated  the  guilt,  attri- 
buted to  him  by  some,  of  having  urged  on  the 
martyrdom  of  Louis  XVI.  and  the  massacres  which 
quickly  followed.  Robespierre  the  "  Incorruptible," 
the  bloodless-looking  tyrant  who  was  steeped  in 
blood,  must  die.  Marat  had  died  by  the  hand  of  a 
woman,  and  already  that  woman,  Charlotte  Corday, 
was  spoken  of  with  reverence  by  the  people  who 
dared  to  utter  her  name.  Should  his  hand  flinch 
when  armed  by  a  woman  whom  he  believed  to  be 


MADAME    TALLIEN.  29 

noble-hearted  as  was  Judith,  when,  for  the  salvation 
of  her  country,  she  slew  Holofernes  ? 

The  end  is  well  known.      By  the  9th  Thermidor,  a 
confederacy  was  formed  against  Robespierre,  although 
whence,  with  whom,  or  how  commenced,  and  to  what 
immediate  result  tending,  it  would  have  at  first  been 
impossible  to  say.     Tallien,  perhaps,  alone  knew  that 
its  real  origin  was  his  own  love  for  a  woman,  who  had 
not  only   inspired   but  armed  him.      A  stormy  dis- 
cussion in  open  assembly  took  place  between  him  and 
Robespierre.     The  Moniteur  newspaper  of  that  time 
gives  an  animated  account  of  this,  and  the  (presumed) 
causes  which  immediately  provoked  it.     To  this  news- 
paper it  will  here  be  remembered  that  Tallien  was 
formerly  a  contributor.     Out  of  doors,  also,  there  was 
an  epidemic  feeling  of  mingled  hope  and  fear.    Paris, 
long  dismayed  by  the  doings  of  the  "  Committee  of 
Public  Safety,"  established  by  Robespierre,  felt,  rather 
than  knew,  that  a  crisis  of  some  sort  was  at  hand.     At 
length,  on  the  9th  day  of  July,  1794,  the  crisis  took 
place  ;  but  here  let  M.  Thiers  speak  :  "  The  end  of 
that  frightful  system  had  arrived.      People  had  such 
an  idea  of  the  resolution  of  the  conspirators,  and  so 
astonished  to  find  them  sitting  almost  motionless  when 
they  approached  the  Hotel  de  Ville,  that  they  were 
almost  afraid  of  approaching.     Had  Robespierre  been 


30  ILLUSTRIOUS  WOMEN   OF   FRANCE. 

a  man  of  decision,  had  he  ventured  to  show  himself 
and  march  against  the  Convention,  he  would  have 
placed  it  in  a  dangerous  position  ;  but  he  was  a  man 
of  words,  and  he  perceived,  as  did  all  his  partisans, 
that  public  opinion  had  forsaken  him." 

He  went  forth  from  the  Assembly,  where  he  had 
been  met  with  powerful  opposition  :  he  knew  that  his 
time  of  power  had  passed  ;  and  suddenly  he  attempted 
to  blow  out  his  brains.  The  ball  of  the  pistol  he  had 
placed  to  his  head  entered  his  lip.  The  National 
Guard  rushed  into  the  room  where  "  the  leaders  of  the 
revolt  "  were  seated.  Robespierre  was  there — a  most 
horrible  spectacle.  He  was  conveyed  to  the  hall  of 
the  Committee  of  Public  Safety,  in  the  name  of  which 
so  many  crimes  had  by  him  been  committed.  The 
next  day  a  vast  crowd  assembled  round  the  scaffold 
in  the  Place  de  la  Revolution.  It  was  the  ioth 
Thermidor,  and  Robespierre  was  to  be  executed.  The 
soldiers  pointed  at  him  with  their  swords,  so  as  to 
distinguish  him  in  full  view  of  the  mob  from  other 
victims  of  his  own  tyranny.  A  bandage  was  round 
his  jaw.  A  cry  escaped  him  when  this  was  torn 
away,  and  immediately  afterwards  the  executioner  had 
done  his  work.  Even  into  the  midst  of  still  densely 
crowded  prisons,  as  throughout  all  France,  the  news 
of  Robespierre's  death  conveyed  a  thrill  of  hope  for 


MADAME    TALLIEN.  31 

the  future.  It  was  upon  the  morning  of  that  eventful 
day — as  in  this  volume  elsewhere  told — that  the 
widowed  Josephine  de  Beauharnais,  standing  at  the 
window  of  her  prison-cell,  beheld  a  woman  outside, 
who  attracted  her  attention  by  frantic  attitudes  of  joy. 
At  first  Madame  de  Beauharnais  (future  Empress  of 
the  French)  thought  the  woman  mad  ;  but  not  so  when 
she  watched  her  take  up  a  stone  {pierre)  and  roll  it  in 
her  dress  {robe),  and  then,  with  a  gesture  of  joyful 
deliverance,  fling  the  stone  away  from  her,  even  by 
tearing  her  dress  asunder.  But  it  soon  became  known 
that  to  Madame  Tallien,  henceforth  called  "  Notre 
Dame  de  Thermidor,"  the  honours  of  that  day  of 
deliverance  were  due,  and  the  real "  reign  of  Tallien," 
as  her  husband,  began  the  same  evening  that  her 
marriage  with  him  was  openly  proclaimed.  It  is 
Arsene  Houssaye,  the  enlightened  biographer,  who 
well  remembers  the  conversation,  so  charming  to  him, 
of  Madame  Tallien's  daughter  (the  Marquise  du 
Hallay),  that  the  following  description  of  the  first  home 
in  Paris  of  "  Notre  Dame  de  Thermidor,"  after  her  re- 
lease from  prison,  is  partly  due.  In  a  sheltered 
nook  of  Elysium,  not  far  from  the  Tuileries,  stood  a 
building  which,  because  of  its  thatched  roof  and  other 
attributes  (reminding  the  beholder  of  the  palace  of  the 
"  Little  Trianon  "),  had  doubtless  once  been  a  favourite 


32  ILLUSTRIOUS    WOMEN   OF  FRANCE. 

resort  of  Queen  Marie  Antoinette.  It  was  near  the 
AlMe  des  Veuves  and  the  then  Cours  de  la  Rcine.  Em- 
bosomed in  flowering  shrubs,  and  surrounded  by  lofty- 
trees,  it  was  the  home  of  homes  for  conjugal  love,  and 
for  re-union  after  misfortune.  But,  in  Madame 
Tallien's  time,  it  likewise  soon  became  the  most 
favourite  gathering-point  for  politicians,  musicians, 
poets,  and  artists  ;  indeed,  for  all  men  and  women  still 
left  by  the  revolution  to  distinguish  France  by  their 
talents  or  their  beauty.  It  was  here  that  Sophie 
Gay  (the  gifted  mother  of  the  "  tenth  Muse "  of 
France,  Madame  £mile  de  Girardin)  became  ac- 
quainted with  Madame  Tallien  ;  and  it  seems  to  have 
been  here  that  Talleyrand  uttered  some  of  his  best 
mots.  It  is  impossible  to  enumerate  Madame  Tallien's 
guests,  including  Bonaparte,  on  the  eve  of  the  first 
empire,  and  his  future  wife  and  empress,  Madame  de 
Beauharnais  ;  nor  is  it  possible  to  describe  her  happi- 
ness in  this  "  cottage,"  as  it  was  called,  for  the  period 
of  her  residence  in  it  was  probably  the  most  happy  of 
her  eventful  life.  Does  it  not  seem  profane  to  attempt 
to  clothe  either  joy,  or  love,  or  sorrow  in  words  ?  Be 
that  as  it  may,  Tallien,  the  "  Lion  Amoureux,"  as 
M.  Arsene  Houssaye  calls  him,  was  at  this  time  so 
happy  in  his  home  that  the  first  signs  of  coming  events 
casting  their  shadows  before  him  and  his  lovely,  gifted 


MADAME    TALLIEN.  33 

wife  lay  in  his  too  great  adoration  of  her.  Indeed,  it 
now  almost  seemed  that  in  Robespierre's  taunt  there 
had  lurked  a  prophecy  when  he,  the  tyrant,  declared 
that  .Tallien,  reposing  at  the  feet  of  a  modern 
Delilah,  was  shorn  of  his  strength. 

Terezia  was  ambitious  for  him  :  the  circumstances 
of  the  times  which  had  called  him  forth  from  the 
class  to  which  he  belonged  by  birth  were  exciting 
to  her  active  and  ardent  mind.  She  took  an  earnest 
interest  in  politics,  in  literature,  in  art.  She  became 
the  queen  of  a  republican  society  ;  and  there  were 
many  who  owed  their  fortunes  to  her.  Amongst 
them,  one  Ouvrard.  He  possessed  a  magnificent 
abode  in  the  Rue  de  Babylone  ;  and,  at  a  later  date, 
he  presented  this  fairy  palace,  with  its  golden  key, 
to  Madame  Tallien,  who  delighted  in  the  wonderful 
gardens  by  which  it  was  surrounded.  The  "  Cottage  " 
in  the  Elysian  Fields  was  deserted  ;  and  not  long 
afterwards  it  would  seem  that  Madame  Tallien 
was  deserted  by  her  husband.  But  there  were 
reasons  for  this,  not  at  all  derogatory  to  the  cha- 
racter of  Madame  Tallien  ;  for  Tallien,  who  had 
lately  assumed,  or  resumed,  more  the  role  of  a 
litterateur  than  a  political  man,  had  travelled  to 
Egypt,  there  to  illustrate  some  scenes  of  Napoleonic 
glory  with  his  pen. 


34  ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF  FRANCE. 

Madame  Tallien  could  not  at  that  time  well  leave 
Paris,  where  prevalent  forgetfulness  of  the  absent 
would  have  been  a  social  death  for  her  and  her 
husband.  Gradually  she  had  found  that  their  mutual 
position  was  becoming  a  difficult  one,  for  Bonaparte 
— though  at  a  later  date  himself  divorced — feared 
that  the  presence  of  a  divorcee  at  the  court  he  was 
hoping  to  form  around  his  wife  would  be  prejudicial 
to  the  society  he  was  secretly  anxious  to  re-establish, 
divorce  never  having  been  tolerated  in  France  before 
the  Revolution.  The  generous  Josephine  at  first 
passionately  resisted  this  attempted  separation  be- 
tween herself  and  her  friend,  Madame  Tallien,  ci- 
devant  Marquise  de  Fontenay  ;  but  she  was  com- 
pelled to  submit,  and  perhaps  at  last  the  less  un- 
willingly because  by  some  it  was  said  that  Bonaparte 
in  his  heart  exceedingly  admired  Madame  Tallien, 
"  the  Venus  of  the  Capitol."  Together  these  two 
women — sharers  of  the  same  hard  fare  in  prison,  and 
sisters  there  in  agonised  hope  and  fear — had  since 
danced  at  the  directorial  Palace  of  the  Luxembourg, 
and  elsewhere,  the  same  dances  then  new  to  Paris, 
but  in  which  they  both  excelled,  the  one  by  Spanish 
and  the  other  by  Creole  garce. 

Both  of  them  were  generous  in  heart  and  deed  ; 
nay,  it  had  even  been  Madame  Tallien's  privilege  to 


MADAME    TALL/EN.  35 

assist  Madame  de  Beauharnais  and  her  children  in 
their  time  of  adversity.  They  had  helped  to  in- 
augurate the  same  fashions  by  setting  an  example 
in  their  own  handsome  persons  to  cast  aside  the 
cumbrous  costume  of  the  ancien  regime  in  favour  of 
the  classic  and  flowing  robes  of  Greece  and  Rome 
under  glorious  republics.  The  past  lives  of  both  of 
them  had  been  tinged  by  sorrow  ;  their  first  marriages 
had  not  been  happy ;  in  the  heart  of  each  of  them 
was  a  strong  yearning  instinct  of  maternity.  By 
their  second  marriages  they  had  each,  as  it  seemed 
at  first,  descended  in  the  social  scale,  yet  mounted  to 
a  superior  elevation  than  they  had  originally  at- 
tained by  their  titles,  those  "  accidents  of  accidents." 
So  close  a  friendship  between  two  such  fascinating 
women  was  a  social  phenomenon  which  might  have 
done  honour  to  the  "  First  Empire  ;"  but  Napoleon 
was  but  human  when  he  committed  a  first  domestic 
mistake,  and  sundered  the  links  of  it.  Josephine's 
rise,  therefore,  may  almost  be  said  to  have  been 
Terezia's  fall,  for  when,  at  the  dawn  of  a  new  cen- 
tury, all  the  world  from  far  and  near  prostrated 
itself  before  the  morning  star  of  Napoleonic  glory, 
what  must  "  Notre  Dame  de  Thermidor,"  have 
felt  to  find  herself  gradually  excluded  from  the 
Tuileries  ? 


36  ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF  FRANCE. 

Tallien  had  been  made  Consul  at  Alicant,  but  this 
appointment  seems  to  have  given  little  or  no  satisfac- 
tion either  to  her  or  himself. 

Spain  had  nothing  but  painful  memories  for  her  of 
that  young  time  of  life  when  the  world  lay  before  her 
like  some  fair  paradise,  some  abode  for  the  loves  of 
angels,  and  unshadowed  by  evil. 

She  could  not  go  back  to  her  own  native  land  ;  the 
force  of  contrast  betwixt  the  past  and  present  was  too 
strong  upon  her.  So  was  it  likewise,  albeit  in  a 
different  sense,  in  France.  She  wandered  about  in 
the  gardens  of  her  splendid  home  in  the  Rue  de 
Babylone,  and  often,  doubtless,  sat  down  there  and 
wept, — wept,  even  like  the  Biblical  women  of  old, 
"  by  the  waters  of  Babylon."  For  in  those  gardens 
of  hers,  where  Art  and  Nature  vied  with  each  other 
in  producing  marvels,  there  were  sparkling  fountains 
and  what,  in  antique  and  oriental  phrase,  were  called 
"  hanging  " — let  it  rather  be  said  "  floating  "  gardens. 

The  place  was  beautiful,  and  so  was  its  owner ;  but, 
despite  the  distinguished  crowd  of  guests  who  were 
wont  to  gather  around  her,  she  was  desolate,  because 
a  second  time  divorced,  in  heart,  though  not  yet, 
perhaps,  by  legal  fact — and  this  time  from  the  one 
man  really  loved  by  her. 

By  what  caprice  of  ill-fortune  had  this  happened  ? 


MADAME    TALLIEN.  37 


None  can  exactly  say.  Such  love  as  that  of  Tallien 
for  her  is  apt  to  be  over-sensitively  jealous.  Such 
pride  of  heart  as  hers,  especially  if  unjustly  suspected 
or  suspicious,  is  apt  to  quicken  with  indignation. 

It  would  seem  that  Tallien  ought  not  to  have  left 
her :  but  he  was  a  politically  disappointed  man  ;  he 
knew  that  she  was  ambitious  for  him,  and  it  may  be 
that  to  regain  his  position  in  her  high  esteem  he  had 
left  her  in  order  to  seek  a  new  and  loftier  destiny 
than  any  he  had  yet  been  able  to  offer  her. 

All  this,  and  much  more  concerning  them  both  (for 
it,  whatever  that  it  was,  could  only  be  known  to  each 
other,  and  even  then  must  have  been  a  point  of 
mutual  controversy),  need  not  be  here  discussed.  She 
was  desolate  and  depressed,  and,  possibly,  with  all 
her  extreme  generosity  and  sweetness  of  disposition, 
indignant  at  the  cause  of  her  desolation,  her  depres- 
sion, and  her  consequent  temptation. 

For  suddenly  in  her  presence  appeared,  and  for  the 
first  time,  the  brilliant  Joseph,  Count  de  Caraman, 
and  Prince  de  Chimay.  He  was  indeed  almost  laden 
with  titles,  for  he  was  a  "grand  d'Espagne"  of  the 
first  class,  &c,  &c,  not  less  than  fourteenth  Prince  de 
Chimay.  He  was  rich,  for  he  had  lately  succeeded  to 
a  large  inheritance,  and  was  also  first  peer  of 
Hainault. 


38  ILLUSTRIOUS  WOMEN   OF   FRANCE. 

More  than  all  this,  which  gave  him  influence  in 
Spain  and  France  and  Holland — including  Belgium — 
he  was,  for  his  own  sake,  worthy  to  be  loved,  and  he 
quickly  gave  his  love  to  Terezia  Tallien,  late  Marquise 
de  Fontenay. 

In  her  desolation  she  responded  to  it.  She  was  a 
skilled  musician,  so  was  he ;  and  this  to  such  an 
extent,  that  during  his  emigration  from  France  and 
Spain,  at  the  time  of  the  "great  Revolution,"  and 
before  his  recent  accession  to  fortune,  he  had  sup- 
ported himself  at  Hainault  and  elsewhere  by  his 
musical  talents.  Spain — to  a  great  extent  the  native 
land  both  of  Madame  Tallien  and  himself — offered 
innumerable  points  of  sympathy.  Did  Terezia  love 
this  brilliant  and  accomplished  Prince,  who  came  to 
her  in  the  midst  of  her  "  Babylonian  "  though  gloomy 
splendour,  as  she  had  loved  Tallien  after  he  had 
come  and  released  her  from  prison  at  Bordeaux  ? 
The  best  answer  to  this  is  at  once,  "  Yes  and  No  ;"  as 
to  all  such  questions,  after  the  circumstances  of  an 
eventful  life  are  changed,  and  the  character  of  the 
chief  actor  in  it  has  been  developed  by  sheer  force  of 
griefs  which  do  not  kill — they  are  not  merciful  enough 
for  that — but  resuscitate. 

Amongst  legal  men  it  is,  according  to  common 
report,    believed    that     one    crime    begets    another. 


MADAME    TALLIEN.  39 

According  to  the  then  new  and  anti-ecclesiastical 
law  of  revolutionized  France,  it  cannot  here  be 
said  that  divorce  was  a  crime ;  but,  in  the  case 
of  Madame  Tallien,  one  divorce  brought  forth 
another,  difficult  though  it  be  to  decide  whether 
the  proposal  for  it  on  the  second  occasion  originated 
with  herself  or  Tallien.  In  any  case  Tallien  ought 
not  to  have  separated  himself  from  her,  had  he  not 
desired  such  a  result ;  and,  at  all  events,  the  divorce 
having  been  pronounced,  Terezia,  ii6e  Cabarrus, 
formerly  Marquise  de  Fontenay,  and  late  wife  of 
Jean  Lambert  Tallien,  citizen,  soon  became  Prin- 
cesse  de  Chimay. 

Terezia  was  soothed  by  the  love  and  intelligent 
society  of  her  new  husband,  with  whom  she  went  to 
reside  at  Brussels,  and  sometimes  at  his  splendid 
estate  of  Chimay.  Yet  misfortune,  like  some  jealous 
woman,  was  not  yet  tired  of  persecuting  her,  for  two 
things  troubled  her, — first,  the  knowledge,  in  course  of 
time,  that  Tallien  had  returned  to  Paris  poor,  and 
suffering  from  the  neglect  of  political  ingratitude,  and 
almost,  if  not  quite,  blind  ;  secondly,  because  she  was 
excluded  from  the  court  of  her  newly-adopted 
country,  where  it  was  considered  that,  if  not  thought 
worthy  to  be  received  at  the  court  of  a  Bonaparte, 
she  could  scarcely  be  admitted  to  that  which,  by  long 


40  ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF   FRANCE. 

precedence,  had  a  still  sterner  right  to  be  inflexible  in 
its  prejudices. 

Her  husband,  the  Prince  de  Chimay,'\vas  compelled 
to  absent  himself  often  from  her  on  account  of  the 
duties  which  his  rank  assigned  to  him  at  this  same  court. 
The  Prince  of  Orange  avowedly  regretted  a  decree  by 
which  the  Princesse  de  Chimay  was  kept  away  from 
it — she  who  ought  to  have  been  its  chief  ornament ! 

Doubtless  jealous  women  who  had  heard  much  of 
"  Notre  Dame  de  Thermidor  "  and  "  the  Venus  of  the 
Capitol,"  had  much  secretly  to  do  with  this  exclusion 
of  a  formidable  rival  who  was  still  beautiful  in  person 
and  notorious  for  her  varied  talents,  her  eloquence, 
her  wit,  and  fascination. 

A  new  generation,  including  some  of  her  own 
children  (it  is  difficult  here  to  give  the  exact  dates  of 
their  births),  had  sprung  up  about  her.  Events  with 
which  the  world  had  rung  in  her  own  early  youth — 
events  in  which  she  had  played  an  extraordinary 
part,  but  which  were  already  fading  away  from  Euro- 
pean memory — were  no  longer  considered  of  such 
importance  as  they  are  even  now  when  circles  of  time 
have  again  brought  them  out  to  view,  and  even,  in 
some  cases,  reproduced,  and  are  likely  to  reproduce, 
them. 

But  she  was  more  woman  in  heart  than  heroine, 


MADAME    TALLIEN.  41 

and  as  woman  she  keenly  felt  for  the  destitution  into 
which  had  fallen  Tallien,  the  first  really  beloved  of  her 
heart,  whose  adoring  and  adored  wife  she  had  been. 
She  could  feel  no  happiness  in  her  own  splendour, 
when  thinking  of  his  destitution.  Why  had  he  left  her  ? 
Why  were  they  not  now  sharing  poverty,  if  need 
be,  together  ?  The  kindness  of  her  heart  was  unalter- 
able. Versatile  in  her  style  of  beauty,  versatile  in  her 
accomplishments,  quick  to  laugh  or  prone  to  weep, 
swift  in  all  emotions,  but  generously  eager  to  forgive, 
she  who,  at  Bordeaux,  had  been  worshipped  as  the 
"  Goddess  of  Pardon,"  and  who  was  capable  of  loving 
as  few  women  can  love — with  powerful  brain  but 
tender  heart,  and  both  apt  to  kindle  with  all  the  impe- 
tuosity of  her  native  southern  clime, — it  was  horrible 
for  her  to  think  of  Tallien  suffering  and  deserted. 
But  she  was  a  woman  of  action  not  less  than  of  senti- 
ment. There  is  no  doubt  that  she,  by  some  delicate 
means  which  such  a  woman  could  alone  imagine,  sent 
him  aid  ;  and  it  is  certain  that  she  implored  him  to 
occupy  a  domicile  in  Paris  still  belonging  to  her. 

Let  a  curtain  here  be  drawn  over  a  sight  which  she 
could  not  have  borne  to  see — the  sight  of  Tallien 
selling  for  bread  the  books  which  he  had  collected, 
the  files  of  newspapers  to  which  he  had  contributed — 
of  Tallien,  blind    and  poor,  but  still  so  proud  that 


42  ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN    OF  FRANCE. 

he  refused  help  from  the  newly-restored  king, 
Louis  XVIII.,  as  having  no  claim  to  it  in  his  cha- 
racter of  ex-republican. 

The  king  sent  his  confidential  minister,  M.  Decazes, 
to  Tallien,  who  was  then  living  in  the  remains  of 
"  The  Cottage,"  where  the  happiest  part  of  his  life  had 
been  spent  with  the  former  Marquise  de  Fontenay. 
Over  the  door  Tallien,  as  though  in  mockery  of  his 
fallen  condition,  had  caused  Cabaret  Tallien  to  be 
inscribed  ;  it  was  in  the  avenue,  since  most  known 
as  the  Avenue  Montaigne,  named  after  that  philo- 
sopher, the  result  of  whose  vast  researches  was 
best  expressed,  perhaps,  in  his  own  words — "  Que 
sais-je  ?  " 

There  was  a  painful  and  tacit  satire  on  the  ambi- 
tion of  human  life  in  the  ruined  abode  to  which  clung 
Tallien  in  the  last  days  of  his  life,  during  which, 
though  not  yet  nearly  numbering  the  "threescore 
years  and  ten "  allotted  ordinarily  to  man,  he  had 
beheld  his  country  pass  from  antique  monarchy  to 
blood-red  revolution  ;  from  a  republic  to  an  empire  ; 
from  an  empire  back  again  to  royalty  restored. 

"What  do  I  know  ? "  he  might  well,  like  Mon- 
taigne, have  asked.  "  Which  is  best  ?"  He  was  weary 
of  life ;  its  inspiration  had  passed  away  from  him 
with  his  love.     To  him  the  object  of  that  love  could 


MADAME   TALLIEN.  43 

never  more  return  on  earth.  Her  splendid  and  his- 
toric palace  of  Chimay  was  still  the  gathering  point 
for  poets,  artists,  musicians ;  the  muses,  in  the  form 
of  their  most  gifted  sons — or,  if  muses  be  not  mothers, 
their  most  cherished  favourites — clustered  round  her. 
She  was  still  beautiful ;  for,  whatever  may  be  the  real 
nature  of  the  mystery  of  life,  there  still  burned  within 
her  that  Promethean  fire  which,  whether  stolen  from 
the  gods,  or  conferred  as  a  choice  gift  by  them  to 
some  few  favoured  mortals,  resisted  the  withering 
clutch  of  Time.  So  Time  rested  on  his  scythe,  and 
turned  his  hour-glass,  as  though  the  motto  of  her  life 
was  always  a  recommenccr. 

Her  husband,  that  brilliant  Prince  Caraman  de 
Chimay,  who  had  come  to  her  like  some  fairy  prince, 
when  she  was  sitting  weeping  alone  in  her  "Gardens 
of  Babylon,"  shared  her  artistic  tastes  and  loved 
her ;  but  it  was  not  upon  his  breast  that  she  had 
fallen  when  she  was  a  prisoner  in  her  youth  at  Bor- 
deaux ;  it  was  not  he  who  had  twice  risked  his  own 
life  for  her  sake  ere  she  appeared  before  the  excited 
world  of  Paris  as  "  Our  Lady  of  Thermidor."  It  was 
not  this  man  who  had  first  helped  to  reveal  to  her 
the  secret  of  her  own  beauty  when  he  criticized  her 
portrait  chc-z.  Madame  le  Brun  ;  it  was  not  this  prince 
who  had  first  taught  her  the  vast  difference  'twixt 


44  ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF   FRANCE. 

friendship  and  love,  when,  by  the  overwhelming 
strength  of  the  new  life  of  love  with  which  she  was 
imbued,  she  was  convinced  that  for  her  first  husband, 
the  Marquis  de  Fontenay,  she  had  never  felt  but  the 
tender  and  grateful  regard  due  to  a  father. 

No  ;  Tallien  was  now  poor,  and  blind,  and  forgotten 
by  many  as  he  sat  in  his  miserable  "  Cabaret  Tallien," 
— amid  the  ruins,  in  fact,  of  her  first  abode  of  love 
with  him.  But  nothing  could  deprive  him  of  his 
memory.  "  What  has  been,  is  ;  what  is,  has  been." 
And  yet  some  memories — are  they  not  torture  ? 

Tallien  was  probably  experiencing  this  torture  when 
M.  Decazes,  confidential  minister  of  Louis  XVIII., 
came  to  him  as  an  emissary  from  his  Majesty,  and 
offered  him  a  liberal  pension,  assuring  him  at  the 
same  time  that  the  king  bore  no  political  resentment, 
that  he  admired  genius  wherever  he  found  it,  and  that 
in  the  matter  now  present  he  had  "  forgotten  every- 
thing," except  the  fact  of  Tallien's  mental  endowments. 

But  Tallien,  the  "  Lion  Amoureux  "  of  former  days, 
was  proud  in  his  adversity,  and  answered  with  some- 
thing like  a  satire  on  the  Bourbons  (of  whom  it  was 
generally  said  that  they  could  neither  forget  nor 
forgive) — 

"  But  /  have  forgotten  nothing  ;  and  I  cannot,  as  a 
republican,  receive  a  pension  from  the  king." 


MADAME    f ALLIEN.  45 

M.  D^cazes  then  ventured  to  entreat  this  lion, 
whom  he  had  "  bearded  in  his  den,"  to  accept  at  least 
a  more  suitable  abode  than  the  ruined  one  inhabited 
by  him.  But  this  was  touching  on  a  most  sensitive 
chord  ;  for  had  not  this  been  the  abode  of  its  now 
desolate  owner's  love  ? 

"  No,"  replied  Tallien,  with  dignity  ;  "  no.  Were 
the  king  to  offer  me  the  Tuileries,  or  any  other  of  his 
palaces,  in  which  to  dwell,  I  would  refuse.  My  reli- 
gion is  that  of  broken  idols ;  and  yet  I  thank  Heaven 
for  the  part  I  have  played.     For  me  now  no  home 

remains  but  the  tomb.     My  place  is  there "     A 

moment   afterwards    he    proudly    added,    "  And    in 
history." 

The  king's  emissary  could  say  no  more  ;  and  Tallien 
was  left  to  die,  or,  rather,  to  be  immortalized.  For 
a  brief  space  he,  too,  had  been  king  of  France  ;  king* 
as  says  M.  Arsene  Houssaye  (to  whom  the  thanks 
of  the  present  writer  are  due),  at  the  Convention,  at 
the  Comite  de  Saint  Piiblic,  at  the  Jacobin  Club,  in  the 
street,  in  the  cafes, — everywhere  king,  even  in  the 
presence  of  his  wife  and  over  her. 

At  Bordeaux,  under  the  blood-red  republic,  and 
during  the  Reign  of  Terror,  she,  emerging  from  a 
dungeon,  had  made  him  king  over  his  fellow-men,  by 
allowing  him  to  be  so  over  her  own  heart.     But  all 


46  ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF    FRANCE. 

that  had  passed  away  with  her.  The  memory  of  it 
alone  remained,  and  this  memory  it  was  which,  doubt- 
less, killed  Tallien  ;  for  it  was  the  memory  of  the  one 
woman  from  whom,  since  that  first  moment  when,  as 
art-critic,  he  beheld  not  only  her  portrait,  but  her- 
self, all  his  life,  his  love,  his  inspiration  had  flowed. 

Let  it  not  be  said  that  Tallien  died — "  here  lies 
Tallien  ; "  rather,  in  the  antique  Roman  phrase  to 
which,  as  classic  student,  he  was  much  and  elo- 
quently addicted,  let  it  be  known  that  Tallien  "  hath 
lived." 

The  Princess,  who,  despite  her  first  lord  and  last 
illustrious  legalized  lover,  must  ever  and  best  be  known 
as  Madame  Tallien,  had  the  misfortune  to  survive  until 
the  dawn  of  the  year  1835.  Time,  that  ordinarily 
ruthless  sage,  refused,  even  to  the  last,  to  touch  her 
with  his  scythe,  and  she  was  supposed  to  be,  by 
those  who  perhaps  had  never  even  heard  of  "  Our 
Lady  of  Thermidor,"  the  eldest  but  handsomest  sister 
of  her  own  three  daughters. 

So,  at  least,  implies  the  here  oft-quoted  M.  Arsene 
de  Houssaye,  who,  as  before  said,  was  a  great  ad- 
mirer of  one  of  the  latter — Madame  la  Marquise  du 
Hallay. 

But  at  last  came  a  day  for  the  release  of  the  gifted 
Princess,  best    known   as    the  republican    Madame 


MADAME    TALLIEN.  47 

Tallien.  The  early  spring, — or,  perhaps,  more  correctly- 
speaking,  the  late  winter, — sunlight  was  shining  on  a 
January  day.  She  was  then  at  the  palatial  chateau 
of  Chimay.  Her  son,  known  to  the  world  as  Doctor 
Cabarrus,  was  with  her,  and  likewise  some  other  of 
her  children.  Did  the  sunlight  remind  her  of  her 
native  Spain,  or  of  her  once  own  nascent  glory  in 
her  adopted  country,  France  ?  Probably,  for, 
albeit  recently  suffering  and  needing  care,  she  sud- 
denly entreated  to  be  conveyed  out  into  the  open  air, 
on  a  lawn — anywhere,  so  that  the  sun  might  shine  on 
her.  Her  wish  was  obeyed.  She  looked  round  on 
the  splendid  territory  of  which  she  was  mistress ;  but 
far  beyond  all  gardens,  or  park,  or  forest  land  she 
gazed  ;  for,  raising  herself  from  an  attitude  of  repose 
on  her  invalid  couch,  she  looked  with  eyes  which 
revealed  her  inmost  soul  towards  Spain  and  Paris. 
The  yearning  of  her  heart  in  its  last  pulsations  was 
for  the  past.  Not  less,  let  it  be  hoped,  for  a  future 
in  which  no  earthly  short-sightedness,  no  passing 
cloud  which  veils  the  earth,  can  obscure  the  light  of 
love.  By  the  rapid  panorama  of  memory  reviewing 
her  eventful  life,  she  wondered  in  her  last  moments 
whether  indeed  it  were  but  one  long  dream.  "  Turn 
me  to  the  sun,"  she  said,  and  then  died — or  rather, 
perhaps,  began  to  live. 


THE     EMPRESS    JOSEPHINE, 
QUEEN     HORTENSE, 


AND 


CAROLINE     BONAPARTE 

(GRANDMOTHER,    MOTHER,   AND  AUNT   OF   NAPOLEON   III). 


THE  EMPRESS  JOSEPHINE. 


THE  EMPRESS  JOSEPHINE, 
QUEEN  HORTENSE,  AND 
CAROLINE  BONAPARTE. 


AGLIOSTRO  shuffled  the 
cards  and  spread  them  out 
on  a  dark  table — large  cards, 
and  of  vast  cabalistic  pre- 
tensions, like  himself.  He, 
"  the  Seer,"  shuffled  the  cards 
again,  and  looked  up  from 
where  he  sat,  in  the  midst  of 
a  large  and  lofty  room,  splendidly  fur- 
nished, artificially  lighted,  and  with  a 
conservatory  full  of  exotic  plants  in  the 
background.  Before  him  stood  a  beauti- 
ful Creole  woman  ;  her  hair  was  black,  her  form  was 
flexible,  and  her  eyes, — of  deep  violet  hue, — were 
fixed  with  intense  anxiety  upon  his  own  swarthy  face 
and  dark  orbs,  which,  nevertheless,  did  not  seem  to 
look  straight  into  her  own.     Me  kept  her  in  suspense 

K    1 


52  ILLUSTRIOUS    WOMEN    OF   FRANCE. 

for  a  moment,  whilst  seeming  to  consider  something 
in  reference  to  her,  but  beyond  her  ;  and,  with  the 
minuteness  of  observation  peculiar  to  moments  of 
terrible  anxiety,  she  observed  that  his  dress,  of  black 
velvet,  was  cut  according  to  the  fashion  of  the  noblesse 
of  France  before  the  Revolution,  and  that  his  hands 
were  beautiful. 

Again  he  consulted  the  cards  before  him,  and  then, 
in  rich  and  melodious  tones,  he  slowly  said  to  her — 

"  Thou  shalt  be  more  than  .Queen,  but  yet  thou 
wilt  die  on  a  dunghill." 

The  lady  started  back  appalled  ;  for  the  first  part 
of  the  prediction  had  already  been  made  to  her  in  a 
distant  land,  in  a  manner  impossible  for  Cagliostro 
by  ordinary  means  to  know,  but  the  latter  portion  of 
the  prophecy  was  so  far  off  from  any  chances  of  her 
life,  even  at  that  time,  that  she  might  well  be  inclined 
to  laugh  at  it. 

For  it  was  to  Josephine,  Vicomtesse  de  Beau- 
harnais,  that  Cagliostro  uttered  those  words,  soon 
after,  or  about  the  time,  of  her  return  to  Paris  from 
her  native  Martinique,  in  1790. 

She  was  the  daughter  of  a  French  gentleman, 
formerly  Lieutenant  of  Marine  Artillery,  named 
Joseph  Tascher  de  la  Pagerie,  who  had  settled  at 
Martinique,  and  there  married  (in  1761)  a  lady  named 


JOSEPHINE,  HORTENSE,  AND  CAROLINE.     53 

Rose  Claire  de  Vergers  de  Sannois,  also  of  French 
extraction.  Until  ten  years  of  age,  Josephine,  the 
first  born  child  of  this  marriage,  lived  with  her  parents 
upon  their  Martinique  estate,  and  then  she  was  sent 
for  her  education  to  the  Convent  of  Fort  Royal,  where 
most  young  Creole  ladies  of  her  social  position  were 
presumed  to  receive  a  suitable  instruction. 

In  what  this  instruction  consisted  may  be  inferred 
from  a  letter  of  her  father  to  M.  le  Marquis  de  Beau- 
harnais  at  the  time  when,  she  being  not  yet  seventeen 
years  of  age,  an  overture  of  marriage  was  made  by 
that  French  nobleman,  then  resident  at  Paris,  to 
M.  de  la  Pagerie  at  Martinique, — a  marriage  (originally 
mooted  by  mutual  friends  of  the  two  families)  be- 
tween the  young  Josephine  and  Alexandre  (the 
brave  Vicomte)  de  Beauharnais,  who  was  himself  but 
a  youth,  and  who  had  never  seen  the  bride  thus 
selected  for  him. 

"  She  has  a  fine  skin,"  wrote  M.  de  la  Pagerie, 
"  beautiful  eyes,  handsome  arms,  and  a  remarkable 
talent  for  music.  I  have  taken  care  to  have  this 
talent  cultivated  by  providing  her  with  a  guitar 
master  during  the  time  she  was  in  the  convent ;  she 
has  profited  by  his  lessons,  and  has  a  very  pretty 
voice." 

Some  delays  occurred  with  regard  to  this  projected 


54  ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF  FRANCE. 

marriage  between  two  young  persons  who  were  quite 
unknown  to  each  other,  but  at  last,  in  the  course  of 
the  year  1779,  M.  de  la  Pagerie  conducted  his  daughter, 
Josephine,  to  France,  and  she  soon  afterwards  became 
the  wife  of  Alexandre  de  Beauharnais.    . 

But  before  her  departure  from  Martinique,  an  old 
negress,  who  was  regarded  as  a  witch  or  "  wise 
woman  "  amongst  her  tribe,  had  met  Josephine,  and, 
having  carefully  scrutinized  the  lines  within  her  small 
hand,  "  told  her  fortune  "  thus  : 

"  Thou  wilt  soon  be  married,  but  not  happily 
married.  A  widow  thou  wilt  become,  and — after- 
wards— more  than  Queen." 

When,  therefore,  Cagliostro  repeated  part  of  this 
prediction  in  Paris,  years  afterwards — as  here  already 
told — the  Vicomtesse  de  Beauharnais  was  naturally 
startled  at  the  coincidence ;  and  all  the  more  so 
because  her  marriage  had  not,  in  the  meantime, 
proved  a  happy  one.  So  far  indeed  was  it  from  such 
during  its  earlier  years  that,  although  the  mother  of 
a  son  and  daughter,  she  had  sought  a  separation  from 
her  husband,  and  found  a  refuge  in  the  home  of  her 
childhood  at  Martinique.  Thence,  however,  she  re- 
turned to  Paris,  at  the  earnest  entreaties  of  her  husband 
and  his  family,  during  the  year  1790;  and  she  was 
the  more  induced  to  do  so  because  her  two  children, 


JOSEPHINE,  HORTENSE,  AND  CAROLINE.     55 

Eugene  and  Hortense,  were  already  at  an  age  to  need 
their  father's  and  her  own  united  care. 

Eugene  had  been  placed  at  school  in  France  by 
his  father,  but  Hortense  had  accompanied  her  to 
Martinique. 

Josephine  desired  that  this  brother  and  sister  should 
know  and  love  each  other ;  and  their  father  repented 
of  the  errors  of  his  youth  which  had  parted  him  from 
his  wife,  for  but  youthful  errors  they  doubtless  had 
been.  For  example  :  At  the  time  when  Josephine 
became  his  bride,  "  society  "  in  Paris  was  at  its  highest 
(or  lowest  ?)  pitch  of  artificial  extravagance ;  the 
Vicomte  de  Beauharnais  was  one  of  the  yamesse 
doree  of  that  period  ;  welcome  was  he  at  the  brilliant 
Court  of  Marie  Antoinette,  at  Versailles  ;  welcome  in 
the  midst  of  the  witty  circle  at  the  Palais  Royal ; 
welcome  in  the  celebrated  salons  of  Madame  de 
Montesson,  where  modes  and  morals,  unknown  to  the 
world  at  large,  were  decreed  ;  welcome  in  the  camp, 
where  Lafayette,  the  Marquis  de  Segur,  and  other 
juvenile  nobles  of  the  day,  were  promulgating  novel 
ideas  of  Liberty.  The  Vicomte  de  Beauharnais  found 
himself  married  according  to  the  family  conventions 
then  in  vogue  amongst  the  Aiicien  regime  of  France  ; 
but  what  could  his  Creole-wife  do  in  the  midst  of 
the  fastidious  company  to  which  this  marriage  intro- 


56  ILLUSTRIOUS    WOMEN    OF   FRANCE. 

duced  her  ?  What  was  her  colonial  and  convent- 
taught  playing  on  the  guitar  to  the  playing  on  the 
harp  of  Madame  de  Genlis  ?  In  Paris  the  guitar  was 
already  out  of  fashion,  and  her  sweet,  though  untutored, 
voice  could  have  but  little  chance  of  being  heard  to 
advantage  in  assemblies  where  operatic  discussions  as 
to  the  respective  merits  of  "  Gluckistes "  or  "  Pic- 
cinistes"  were  rife.  In  her  sunny  Martinique,  under 
blue  skies,  with  waving  palm-trees  in  the  background, 
and  with  enthusiastic  beholders,  black  and  white, 
tenants  and  slaves  of  her  parents'  estate,  in  the  fore- 
ground, she  had  danced  with  ease  and  grace  ;  but 
what  was  such  dancing  as  this  to  the  contortions  then 
emulated  by  Parisians  who  delighted  in  the  "great 
Vestris "  as  their  master,  and  to  whom  the  several 
merits  of  the  corps  de  ballet  introduced  by  him  on 
the  stage  were  of  tip-toe  importance  ?  How  could 
she  judge  of  the  satire  of  Beaumarchais  ("  Figaro  "), 
or  comprehend  the  political  rivalries  betwixt  Versailles 
and  the  Palais  Royal  ? 

In  person  she  was  already  lovely,  but  not  so  as 
afterwards  in  the  tropical  splendour  of  her  full  woman- 
hood. By  disposition  she  was  loving,  but  by  her  yet 
undisciplined  nature  she  was  jealous.  The  popular 
Vicomte  de  Beauharnais  grew  discontented  with  his 
wife ;    he  tried,  or  pretended  to  try,  to  "  finish  her 


JOSEPHINE,  NORTENSE,  AND  CAROLINE.      57 


education,"  but  she  craved  for  love  rather  than  for  a 
preceptor,  who  soon  evinced  impatience  at  his  self- 
imposed  task,  and  was  incapable  by  his  own  worldly- 
pursuits  of  appreciating  the  as  yet  only  half-developed 
treasures  of  the  mind  desirous  of  responding  to  his 
own.  His  wife  presented  him  with  a  son,  but,  as  yet, 
he  was  himself  too  young  to  comprehend  the  duties 
of  a  father.  He  told  his  own  father  that  he  was 
"  eager  for  glory "  (an  epidemic  eagerness  amongst 
youthful  French  nobles  since  the  date  of  the  American 
War  of  Independence)  and  in  the  year  1782  he 
embarked,  by  a  strange  coincidence,  for  Martinique, 
under  the  orders  of  the  brave  M.  de  Rouille.  Here 
he  found  himself  a  welcome  guest  in  the  midst  of  his 
wife's  family,  but  her  relatives  were  soon  scandalized 
by  reports — whether  true  or  untrue — which  floated 
about  them  as  to  his  infidelity  to  her. 

The  echo  of  these  scandals  reached  her  in  France 
just  when,  some  few  months  after  his  departure,  she 
had  given  birth  to  a  daughter  (April  10th,  1783),  and 
then  it  was  that  she  sued  for  a  separation  from  him. 
This  was  obtained  ;  she  caused  her  new-born  child  to 
be  baptized  by  the  names  of  Hortense  Eugenie,  and, 
when  her  husband  was  on  the  eve  of  returning  to 
France,  she  set  sail  for  Martinique. 

But  "  time  brings  wisdom,"  quoth  the  old  French 


58  ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF   FRANCE. 

proverb,  and  by  the  year  1789,  the  Vicomte  de  Beau- 
harnais  so  much  regretted  his  alienation  from  his  wife, 
that  he  implored  her  to  return  to  him.  Josephine  did 
so,  bringing  with  her  his  little  daughter,  who  was  yet 
a  stranger  to  him. 

Upon  the  eve  of  Josephine's  departure  from  Mar- 
tinique a  shocking  but  sudden  revolution  amongst  the 
slaves  of  the  colony  against  their  white  masters  broke 
out  there.  The  home  of  her  earliest  years  was  burnt 
down  to  the  ground,  and  it  was  only  by  extreme 
courage  and  the  force  of  maternal  love,  which  insti- 
gated her  to  protect  her  child  Hortense,  that  she 
reached  the  port.  Exhausted,  scarcely  clothed,  but 
with  her  daughter  still  clasped  to  her  breast,  Madame 
de  Beauharnais  was  found  more  dead  than  alive  by 
some  people  about  to  embark  on  board  a  French 
merchant-ship  lying  near.  She  was  conveyed  to  one 
of  its  cabins,  and  not  until  she  had  fairly  set  sail  for 
France  did  she  realize  the  temporary  destitution  of 
her  position. 

Upon  this  point  she  will  herself  presently  speak 
more  fully  in  these  pages. 

She  reached  France  ;  her  husband  received  her  with 
delight :  the  years  since  she  had  been  parted  from 
him  had  ripened  the  charms  of  her  person  and 
matured  those  of   her  mind.      She  was  rejoiced  at 


JOSEPHINE,  HORTENSE,  AND  CAROLINE.      59 

finding  herself  re-united  to  him,  and  with  tender 
thankfulness  embraced  her  son,  Eugene.  The  Vicomte 
de  Beauharnais  clasped  his  hitherto  unknown  daughter, 
Hortense,  to  his  heart ;  and  henceforth  there  seemed 
nothing  but  happiness  in  store  for  the  home  of 
Josephine. 

But,  alas  !  the  Revolution  only  too  soon  compelled 
her  husband's  departure  from  her.  He  had  acted  as 
President  of  the  National  Assembly,  but  his  sword 
was  at  the  service  of  his  country. 

He  displayed  much  courage,  and  was  made 
General  of  the  Army  of  the  Rhine,  but  being  sus- 
pected by  the  then  ascendant  Revolutionary  party  as 
an  aristocrat,  he  was  arrested  and  conveyed  to  the 
Luxembourg,  which  palace  was,  for  the  time,  con- 
verted into  a  prison. 

The  news  of  his  captivity  quickly  reached  his  wife, 
and  she  sought  by  every  means,  and  at  the  risk  of 
every  danger  to  herself,  to  gain  access  to  him. 

At  that  time,  the  gardens  of  the  Luxembourg  pre- 
sented terrible  scenes  of  daily  distress  ;  for  wives, 
daughters,  lovers,  friends,  and  mothers  were  wont  to 
assemble  there ;  hoping,  almost  against  all  hope,  to 
catch  a  glimpse  of  the  beloved  one  incarcerated  within 
the  walls.  Sometimes  this  glimpse  would  be  afforded 
by  the  tumbril  which  conveyed  the  prisoners  to  the 


60  ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN    OF  FRANCE. 

guillotine,  for  amongst  them  would  be  beheld  the 
being  most  dear — whether  husband,  lover,  brother, 
son,  or  friend — of  some  one  of  the  weary  watchers 
without,  and  in  this  case  the  watcher  would  perhaps 
swoon  away  upon  the  ground,  or  be  found  crushed 
there  in  the  agony  of  despair. 

Ladies  of  the  highest  rank,  disguised  as  beggars, 
would  stand  there — unconscious  of  hail,  rain,  storm, 
or  wind — waiting,  waiting  mostly  in  vain,  for  some 
signal  of  sympathy  from  the  prison  windows  ;  and 
Josephine  was  one  of  them.  She  staked  her  own 
existence  on  the  chance  of  gaining  a  look  from,  a 
word  with,  the  father  of  her  children  ;  and  in  her 
desire  to  impart  consolation  to  the  husband,  from 
whose  recent  re-union  with  her  had  sprung  a  mutual 
love,  she  was  unconscious  of  all  fear  for  herself.  But, 
alas  !  no  opportunity  was  accorded  to  her  of  minister- 
ing to  him  in  the  time  of  need,  for  she,  also,  was 
arrested — merely  because  of  the  fact  that  she  was 
recognized  as  his  devoted  wife — and  cast  into  the 
prison  of  Ste.  Pelagic. 

There  she  found  many  aristocratcs  like  herself,  but 
she  was  in  a  constant  agony  of  doubt,  not  only  as  to 
the  fate  of  her  husband,  but  concerning  that  of  her 
children.  Of  the  latter  it  may  at  once  here  be  said 
that  by  the  arrest  of  their  parents,  and  the  consequent 


JOSEPHINE,  HORTENSE,  AND  CAROLINE.      61 

confiscation  of  their  property,  they  were  literally 
without  either  a  home  to  shelter  them  or  food  to 
eat,  but  they  soon  owed  both  to  the  courageous 
charity  of  Madame  Holstein,  a  beneficent  friend  of 
their  mother. 

This  excellent  lady,  however,  could  not  avert  from 
them  their  individual  share  of  suffering  under  the 
Reign  of  Terror.  Eugene  de  Beauharnais  was  ap- 
prenticed to  a  carpenter,  and  his  sister,  Hortense,  had 
to  take  her  part  in  Republican  processions,  or  in  honour 
of  "  the  Goddess  of  Reason." 

Of  the  fate  of  their  parents  these  children  could 
know  nothing  ;  and  it  was  more  of  her  husband — the 
man  whom  she  had  learnt  to  love  only  too  late — that 
their  mother  thought  than  of  them  or  of  herself. 

She  was  conveyed  from  the  prison  of  Ste.  Pelagie  to 
that  of  the  former  convent  of  the  Carmelites.  It  was 
there  that  only  too  certain  tidings  of  the  Vicomte  de 
Beauharnais  reached  her,  though,  by  some  strange 
and  prophetic  instinct — or  rather,  by  the  simple  force 
of  love,  for  there  is  no  love  without  fear  for  the 
object  of  it — she  had  felt  from  the  first  moment  of 
his  being  called  away  from  her  side  on  military  duty 
that  they  would  meet  no  more  on  earth.  And  yet, 
when  the  intelligence  came  that  her  husband  was 
dead  upon  the  scaffold,  such  anguish  ovenvhelmed 


62  ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN    OF  FRANCE. 

her  that  she  fell  down  as  though  life  had  departed 
from  her  also.  Blood  streamed  from  her  lips,  and, 
when  eventually  recovered  from  imminent  danger, 
she  seemed  to  hope  rather  than  to  fear  that  it  would 
soon  be  her  fate  to  submit  to  the  guillotine,  although 
she  still  felt  anxiety  as  to  what,  in  such  a  case,  would 
become  of  her  orphan  children. 

One  morning,  Josephine  sat  at  the  barred  and 
narrow  window  of  her  prison  cell,  not  knowing 
whether  ever  again  she  might  behold  another  sunrise. 
She  was  still  weak  from  recent  illness,  and  so  be- 
numbed by  depression  that,  although  able  to  look 
upon  an  open  space  below  her  cell  and  outside  the 
prison,  it  was  difficult  to  attract  her  attention  to  any 
external  object.  Presently,  however,  she  was  roused 
to  observation  by  the  sight  of  a  woman  performing, 
as  it  seemed,  some  wild  antics  within  her  view ;  and, 
so  persistent  was  this  unknown  and  coarsely-clad 
individual  in  her  movements,  that,  at  last,  the  captive 
Josephine  regarded  her  with  curiosity. 

The  woman  looked  up  to  the  prison  window ; 
then  she  took  a  stone  (pierre)  from  the  ground,  and, 
after  having  held  it  up  to  view,  rolled  it  in  her  gown 
{robe)  ;  then  displayed  them  both  together,  so  as  to 
give  the  idea  of  the  name  of  Robespierre ;  after  which 
she  made  a  rapid   motion  with  her  hand  across  her 


JOSEPHINE,  //OR  TENSE,  AND  CAROLINE.     63 


throat,  and  gave  other  signs  to  make  it  understood 
that  the  tyrant  himself  was  dead. 

It  was  true.  Robespierre  had  ceased  to  exist ;  the 
Reign  of  Terror  was  therefore  over.  Prisoners  under 
sentence  of  death  were  released  ;  and,  first  amongst 
them,  Josephine,  Vicomtesse  de  Beauharnais. 

She  hastened  to  find,  and  then  to  rejoin,  her  father- 
less children.  Penetrated  with  gratitude  towards  their 
benefactress,  she  resolved  at  once  to  undertake  the 
care  of  them  herself,  and  to  work  with  them  for  a 
livelihood.  She  did  so,  and  the  extreme  indigence  of 
Madame  de  Beauharnais  during  a  prolonged  time  is 
the  best  answer  that  can  be  made  to  aspersions  which 
anti-Imperialist  biographers  have  dared  to  cast  upon 
her  virtue  as  the  widow  of  the  father  of  the  two 
children  who  shared  her  penury  and  her  scanty  gains. 

But  Madame  Tallien,  formerly  known  to  Josephine 
as  Madame  de  Fontenay,  became,  under  the  sobriquet 
of  Notre  Dame  de  TJicrmidor,  the  goddess  of  the 
French  Republic  in  the  time  of  Barras.  The  Luxem- 
bourg was  re-converted  from  a  prison  into  a  palace, 
and  there  Madame  Tallien,  Madame  de  Stael,  and 
Madame  Recamier  attempted  to  reconstitute  French 
society.  Madame  Tallien,  the  beautiful  and  notorious 
wife  of  the  celebrated  republican  chief,  gave  a  splen- 
dour to  the  festivals  inaugurated  at  the  Luxembourg 


64  ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF  FRANCE. 

by  the  taste  with  which  she  presided  over  them,  for 
she  strove  to  revive  in  Paris  all  that  was  glorious 
and  poetic  in  antique  Athens  or  Rome ;  she  desired 
to  be  herself  regarded  as  a  modern  Aspasia  ;  but 
although  her  feet  were  clad  in  golden  sandals,  and 
the  style  of  her  head  with  its  partially  unbound  raven 
tresses  would  have  made  a  worthy  study  for  a  Greek 
sculptor,  the  magnificence  of  her  costume  and  customs 
generally  more  resembled  that  of  Imperial  Rome. 

She  had  many  faults,  but  she  was  heroic  and  kind 
of  heart.  She  sought  her  former  fellow-captive, 
Josephine  de  Beauharnais.  She  insisted  on  her 
taking  part  in  the  entertainments  at  the  Luxem- 
bourg ;  and  thither  the  widowed  Vicomtesse,  who 
only  possessed  a  few  lines  of  farewell  written  on  the 
eve  of  his  execution,  and  a  lock  of  his  hair,  as  tokens 
of  her  husband's  last  thoughts  of  her,  went — not 
without  sad  memories  of  the  time  when  he  was  a  pri- 
soner within  the  very  walls  where  she  was  now  invited 
as  a  guest.  It  was  her  duty  to  accept  such  invitation, 
for  the  future  interests  of  her  children  would  probably 
depend  upon  her  doing  so. 

Madame  Tallien  was  delighted  to  receive  her,  for 
low  as  were  now  the  fortunes  of  the  Vicomtesse  de 
Beauharnais,  the  republican  goddess  did  not  forget 
how,  under  the  regime  of  French  royalty,  she  had 


JOSEPHINE,  HOE  TENSE,  AND   CAROLINE.     65 

regarded  her  acquaintance  as  an  honour.  She  inter- 
ceded with  the  potent  Barras  for  restitution  of  the 
Beauharnais  property ;  and  this  being  in  some  sort 
effected  according  to  various  elastic  clauses  of  newly- 
made  laws,  Josephine  was  delivered  from  the  bonds 
of  poverty,  and  rejoiced  at  being  thus  at  length 
enabled  socially  to  reinstate  her  children,  Eugene 
and  Hortense.  This  she  was  the  better  enabled  to 
accomplish  because  her  claims  upon  certain  property 
in  Martinique  were  at  that  time  adjusted  ;  and  one  of 
her  first  duties  fulfilled  was  to  provide  for  the  educa- 
tion of  her  daughter  Hortense — an  education  too 
long  retarded  by  the  Revolution,  which  had  deprived 
Mademoiselle  de  Beauharnais  of  her  father,  and 
which  at  one  time,  during  her  mother's  imprisonment, 
had  caused  her  fair  young  hands  to  assist  as  a 
blancJiisscusc. 

Hortense  was  confided  to  the  care  of  Madame 
Campan,  formerly  lady  of  the  bed-chamber  to  Queen 
Marie  Antoinette,  who,  since  the  martyrdom  of  her 
Royal  mistress,  had  established  a  school  at  St. 
Germain  for  the  education  of  the  daughters  of  the 
noblesse  of  France.  The  titles  of  that  grand  old 
nobility  were  still  in  abeyance,  but  the  chief  wish  of 
those  who  severally  had  an  hereditary  right  to  them 
was  to  behold  their  children  grow  up,  not  according 

v 


66  ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF   FRANCE. 


to  revolutionary  misrule,  but  subject  to  the  con- 
ventional social  traditions  which  in  France  had  for- 
merly produced  great  heroes  and  great  ladies. 

During  the  brief  but  happy  reunion  with  her 
husband,  Madame  de  Beauharnais  had  resided  with 
him,  when  in  Paris,  at  his  splendid  residence  in  the 
Rue  de  l'Universite,  and  it  was  there  that  the  Vicomte 
learnt  to  appreciate  the  finished  elegance  of  that  wife 
who,  in  former  years,  had  somewhat  shocked  his 
fastidious  tastes  by  her  nai've  simplicity.  Society  had, 
therefore,  become  habitual  to  Josephine  before  the 
period  of  her  widowhood  ;  it  was  no  longer  necessary, 
now  that  she  was  again  rich,  to  labour  with  her  hands 
for  the  bread  of  her  children,  and  she  bought  the 
Maison  Talma,  Rue  de  Chantereine  in  Paris,  where 
a  society  formed  of  all  persons  elegant,  excellent,  art- 
istic and  distinguished,  still  to  be  found  in  the  revolu- 
tionized capital  of  France,  quickly  formed  itself  about 
her. 

In  February  of  the  year  1796,  BONAPARTE  had 
been  named  General-in-Chief  to  the  armies  of  Italy ; 
but  despite  this  appointment  he  was  still  but  a  strug- 
gling soldier  of  fortune,  already  celebrated  for  deeds 
of  valour,  but  with  a  very  uncertain  future  before  him. 
The  sections  of  Paris  were  disarmed  after  the  13th  of 
Vendemiaire    1795,  and    then   it    was   that   he    first 


JOSEPHINE,  HORTENSE,  AND  CAROLINE.     67 

became  acquainted  with  the  woman  who  was  destined 
to  exercise  the  most  extraordinary  influence,  not  only- 
over  his  own  life,  but  over  the  dynasty  of  the  future 
founded  in  his  name.  But,  here  let  him  speak  for 
himself :  "  A  youth  one  day  presented  himself  to  me 
and  entreated  that  the  sword  of  his  father  (who  had 
been  a  General  of  the  Republic)  should  be  returned. 
I  was  so  touched  by  this  affectionate  request  that  I 
ordered  it  to  be  given  to  him.  This  boy  was  Eugene 
de  Beauharnais. 

"  On  seeing  the  sword  he  burst  into  tears.  I  felt 
so  much  affected  by  his  conduct  that  I  noticed  and 
praised  him  much.  A  few  days  afterwards  the 
mother  came  and  returned  me  a  visit  of  thanks.  I 
was  much  struck  with  her  appearance,  and  still  more 
with  her  Esprit!'     .... 

So  speaks  Bonaparte  upon  this  much  disputed 
subject  of  his  first  introduction  to  Josephine  de 
Beauharnais.*  From  the  time  of  that  introduction  he 
became  a  frequent  guest  at  the  Rue  de  Chantereine, 
and  no  evenings  were  so  agreeable  to  him  as  those  he 
spent  there.  The  seductive  grace  of  Josephine  had  a 
special  charm  for  him.  In  society  he  was  still  shy 
himself ;  in  the  camp  he  was  brave,  but  he  had  never 

*  "  Napoleon  in  Exile,"  by  Barry  O'Meara,  his  surgeon  at  St.  Helena. 
Vol.  I.,  p.  180. 

y  2 


68  ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF  FRANCE. 

been  trained  to  courtly  manners  'as  she  had  been, — 
(here  let  it  be  said  that  the  Vicomtesse  de  Beau- 
harnais  had  been  a  welcome  guest  within  the  circle 
of  Queen  Marie  Antoinette), — and  whilst  the  natural 
abandon  of  her  manners,  the  splendour  of  her  raven 
tresses,  reminded  him  of  his  own  Southern  country- 
women, the  refinement  of  her  conversation  was  some- 
thing new  to  him,  the  traces  of  sorrow,  visible  in 
her  expressive,  though  not  strictly  handsome  face, 
evoked  his  chivalrous  sympathy,  and  the  exquisite 
flexibility  of  her  Creole  movements  appealed  to  his 
heart  as  man. 

Bonaparte  loved  Josephine  de  Beauharnais.  Pre- 
viously, he  had  entertained  the  idea  of  a  marriage 
between  himself  and  Mademoiselle  Clary,  sister-in- 
law  of  his  brother  Joseph  ;  but  that  idea  had  ceased 
to  be,  and  henceforth  his  one  desire  was  to  unite 
himself  to  the  widow  of  the  Vicomte  de  Beauharnais. 
She  was  then  at  least  thirty-three  years  of  age,  and 
he  was  considerably  younger ;  but  she  did  not  look 
as  old  as  he  did,  for  his  prematurely  grave,  though 
handsome  face  was  impassive,  and  hers  was  full  of 
vivacity.  He  was  a  brave  man,  but  it  required  some 
courage  on  his  part  to  ask  her  to  wed  him. 

At  first  she  hesitated,  but  he  was  not  easily 
daunted  ;    and    upon  the   9th   day  of  March,    1796, 


JOSEPHINE,  HORTENSE,  AND  CAROLINE.     69 

Bonaparte  and  Josephine  were  married,  her  son  and 
daughter  being  present  upon  the  occasion,  as  also 
Barras,  Tallien,  and  other  political  celebrities  of  the 
time,  who  signed  the  civil  contract,  then  the  only- 
legal  code  of  matrimony  in  France. 

In  dictating  this  contract  Bonaparte  had  purposely 
taken  at  least  four  years  from  the  age  of  Josephine 
and  added  more  than  one  to  his  own — believing  per- 
haps in  the  French  proverb,  that  "  One  is  always  of 
the  age  one  seems  to  be."  Josephine  was  touched  by 
this  polite,  if  not  "  pious  fraud,"  and  quietly  walked 
home  with  her  husband,  who,  as  her  solicitor  had 
warned  her,  possessed  nothing  but  "  his  cloak  and  his 
sword  to  offer  her." 

Never  did  Josephine  seem  further  removed  from 
the  realisation  of  the  double  prediction  made  of  her 
(first  by  the  negress  fortune-teller,  and  since  by 
Cagliostro)  that  she  would  be  "  more  than  Queen,' 
than  on  this,  her  second  wedding-day.  The  future  ot 
Bonaparte  was  quite  uncertain,  but  his  love  for  her 
was  so  ardent,  that  when  he  had  to  part  with  her, 
twelve  days  after  their  marriage,  to  take  the  command 
in  Italy,  it  was  with  a  regret  which  not  even  his  hopes 
of  glory — his  desire  to  place  his  laurels  at  her  feet, 
could  subdue. 

He  longed  for  her  to  join  him  in  Italy,  as  soon  as 


jo  ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN    OF   FRANCE. 

he  himself  was  established  there  ;  but  by  that  time  his 
wife  had  reason  to  expect  that,  ere  long,  he  would 
become,  through  her,  the  father  of  a  child,  and  she 
feared  to  risk  this  hope  by  travelling.  The  hope  was 
delusive  ;  but,  whilst  it  held  her  separate  from  him, 
he  wrote  constantly  to  her,  and  the  style  of  his  corre- 
spondence may  be  judged  by  the  following  quotation 
from  one  of  his  letters  : 

"  Thou  art  ill !  Thou  lovest  me  !  .  .  .  .  And  I  see 
thee  not !  This  idea  prostrates  me.  I  accused  thee 
of  remaining  in  Paris,  and  thou  wert  suffering  there  ! 
Pardon  me,  my  dear  love.  The  passion  with  which 
thou  hast  inspired  me  robs  me  of  my  reason.  I  shall 
never  regain  it,  for  the  malady  from  which  I  suffer 
is  incurable." 

At  the  end  of  the  month  of  June,  however,  Jose- 
phine rejoined  her  husband  at  Milan,  and  some  of  the 
happiest  days  of  both  their  lives  were  there  passed 
at  the  Palazzo  Serbellone.  But  the  fortunes  of  war 
soon  again  obliged  these  wedded  lovers  to  separate 
for  a  time.  The  whole  story  of  their  rapturous  meet- 
ings and  sorrowful  partings  at  that  period  would 
involve  the  history  of  Bonaparte's  campaigns  during 
the  latter  years  of  the  last  century. 

About  the  middle  of  September,  1797,  Josephine 
followed  Bonaparte  southward.      Upon  the    17th   of 


JOSEPHINE,  HORTENSE,  AND   CAROLINE.     71 

October,  the  treaty  of  Campo  Formio  having  been 
signed,  she  flew  to  Rome,  there  to  congratulate  and  em- 
brace her  son  Eugene,  who  was  entrusted  with  some 
diplomatic  mission  in  the  Holy  City  ;  and  then  she 
returned  to  Paris,  just  a  week  after  her  husband  had 
arrived  there.  She  sped  towards  her  abode  in  the 
Rue  Chantereine,  where  he  awaited  her,  but  she 
found  the  name  of  that  street  changed,  as  though  by 
magic,  to  that  of  the  Rue  de  la  Victoire,  in  honour  of 
her  husband's  conquests.  Her  salon  henceforth  be- 
came the  centre  of  re-union  for  all  persons  most 
distinguished  in  arms,  or  arts,  in  France. 

In  the  month  of  May,  1798,  Bonaparte  started  for 
the  campaign  of  Egypt.  Eugene  de  Beauharnais 
accompanied  him,  and  Josephine  followed  him  as  far 
as  Toulon,  whence  she  wrote  to  Hortense  : 

"  My  dear  Daughter, — Bonaparte  will  not  allow 
me  to  embark  with  him,  as  he  is  anxious  (on 
account  of  my  health)  that  I  avail  myself  of  '  the 
waters '  ere  my  departure  for  Egypt.  In  two  months 
he  will  send  for  me." 

Here  again  is  an  indication  of  Bonaparte's  hope 
(ever  to  be  frustrated  in  the  case  of  his  beloved 
Josephine,  his  "guiding  star,"  as  he  called  her),  that 


72  ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN    OF  FRANCE. 

he  would  some  day  be  the  father  of  a  son  who  would 
follow  out  his  own  heroic  career. 

She  went  to  Plombieres,  there  to  "  drink  the 
waters,"  and  it  was  during  this  period  of  suspense 
that  she  purchased  the  Chateau  of  Malmaison  of  a 
M.  Leconteux  for  the  sum  of  100,000  francs.  She 
returned  to  Paris,  for  the  arms  of  her  husband, 
hitherto  universally  successful,  having  been  reversed 
upon  the  Nile,*  there  was  no  longer  any  question  of 
her  following  him  into  Egypt.  She  occupied  herself 
in  preparing  Malmaison  as  a  delicious  retreat  for 
them  both  ;  a  place  where,  away  from  Paris,  though 
within  easy  reach  of  that  capital,  her  husband  might 
find  rest  from  the  tumult  of  war.  But,  meantime,  she 
did  not  neglect  her  active  duties  towards  him  at  the 
seat  of  government,  for  she  still  continued  to  hold 
her  receptions  in  Paris,  until  just  before  the  time 
named  for  his  return  thither. 

And  yet,  when  he  arrived,  she  was  absent.  Accord- 
ing to.  the  statement  of  her  son  Eugene,  she  had  gone 
forth  to  meet  Bonaparte ;  but,  having  taken  one 
route,  whilst  he  was  pursuing  another,  she  had  failed 
to  encounter  him,  though  it  was  not  more  than  forty- 
eight  hours  after  his  arrival  in  Paris  that  she  rejoined 

*  See  article  on  "Queen  Marie  Ame'lie  and  the  Duchesse 
d'Orleans,"  here  succeeding. 


JOSEPHINE,  HORTENSE,  AND   CAROLINE.     73, 

him  there.  For  the  first  time  in  his  life,  Bonaparte 
then  manifested  symptoms  of  irritation  against  her. 
She  succeeded  in  soothing  him  and  restoring  his 
entire  confidence  in  her,  although  flatterers  of  his, 
who  were  envious  of  her  power  over  him,  and  there- 
fore inimical  to  her,  had  tortured  the  simple  fact  of 
her  absence  at  the  time  of  his  arrival,  and  even  her 
efforts  to  increase  her  social  popularity — efforts  made 
for  his  sake  before  that  event — into  crimes  against 
her. 

Soon,  however,  Bonaparte  had  reason  to  be  thank- 
ful regarding  those  efforts ;  for  when,  after  a  brief 
residence  at  the  Luxembourg,  he  went  (February  9th, 
1800)  to  reside  as  First  Consul  with  his  wife  at  the 
Tuileries,  many  of  the  old  nobility  of  France,  long 
opposed  to  him,  flocked  thither  to  pay  their  respects 
to  her. 

Not  much  happiness  did  Josephine  derive  from  this 
ovation,  for  she  affectionately  remembered  the  "  last 
Queen  of  France,"  who  had  been  kind  to  her  in  the 
days  of  her  first  marriage,  and,  from  the  fact  of  that 
fair  Queen's  martyrdom,  she  had  lost  confidence  in 
the  durability  of  human  greatness. 

As  wife  of  the  "First  Consul,"  Josephine  neverthe- 
less performed  her  part  to  perfection,  and  with  the 
inimitable  grace  peculiar  to  her. 


74  ILLUSTRIOUS    WOMEN    OF  FRANCE. 

When  Talleyrand,  as  Minister  of  Foreign  Affairs, 
introduced  her  to  the  various  illustrious  strangers 
present  at  the  first  diplomatic  reception  under  the 
Consulate  at  the  Tuileries,  she  charmed  all  hearts  by 
the  modesty  of  her  demeanour,  the  dignified  affability 
of  her  kindly  greeting.  Talleyrand,  with  his  "  limp- 
ing gait,"  his  abundant  white  hair,  his  livid  face,  and 
inscrutably  experienced  air,  afforded  upon  that  day 
a  strange  contrast  to  Josephine  Bonaparte,  with  her 
earnest  violet  eyes,  her  flexible  form  clad  in  a  simple 
white  robe  ;  her  black  hair,  restrained  in  its  luxuriant 
flow  by  a  few  cameos ;  her  beautiful  hands  and  arms, 
the  action  of  which  seemed  to  aid  the  expression  of 
her  vivid  sympathy  and  rapid  thoughts. 

She  went  the  round  of  the  diplomatic  circle,  and 
then  a  door  opened  and  displayed  her  husband, 
Bonaparte,  arrayed  in  his  well-known  simple  uniform 
of  First  Consul,  with  military  boots,  black  neck-tie, 
tri-coloured  scarf  twisted  round  his  waist,  buttoned 
coat,  white  pantalon,  and  cocked  hat,  which,  being 
under  his  arm  and  not  on  his  head,  allowed  the  latter 
to  be  exposed  to  view  with  its  (then)  dark  lank  hair 
overshadowing  a  face  of  almost  perfect  beauty  in 
feature,  but  concealing  rather  than  revealing  the 
workings  of  the  mighty  soul  within. 

By  the   aid,    or   rather   chiefly  by  the   agency  of 


JOSEPHINE,  HORTENSE,  AND  CAROLINE.     75 

Josephine,  the  etiquette  of  a  Court  was  soon  esta- 
blished at  the  Tuileries  and  other  palaces  of  France, 
inhabited  by  Bonaparte  as  Consul.  But  no  child  was 
born  to  him,  and  the  greater  his  successes,  the  more 
unbounded  his  ambition,  the  more  anxious  he  became 
for  an  heir  to  his  glory. 

Hortense  de  Beauhamais  was  by  this  time  with- 
drawn from  the  educational  care  of  Madame  Cam- 
pan.  Caroline  Bonaparte,  the  third  sister  of  "the 
Conqueror,"  had  been  her  schoolfellow.  They  both 
appeared  at  the  side  of  Josephine  at  the  Tuileries. 

In  point  of  matrimonial  date,  precedence  must  here 
be  given  to  Caroline  Bonaparte,  afterwards  Queen  of 
Naples.  Born  at  Ajaccio,  in  1782,  she  was  scarcely 
eleven  years  of  age  when  she  first  found  herself  in 
France,  over  which  her  brother  Napoleon  was  destined 
to  reign.  In  the  year  1800,  she  emerged  from  her 
school-girl  life,  and  appeared  before  the  world  as  a 
beautiful  woman,  for  in  her  face  and  form  were  com- 
bined the  classic  and  imperial  dignity  of  her  mother 
Laetitia  (Madame  Mere)  with  the  Hebe-like  graces  of 
youth.  A  few  years  later  Talleyrand  declared  that 
in  Caroline  Bonaparte  he  beheld  the  head  of  a 
diplomatist  on  the  pretty  shoulders  of  a  sensibLe 
though  sensitive  female,  for  her  intellect  was  not 
inferior   to  her  beauty,    and    by  love  she  had   been 


76  ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN    OF   FRANCE. 

taught  to    exercise  her    fine  intelligence  concerning 
affairs  of  State. 

The  head  of  a  true  woman  is  always  subservient 
to  her  heart,  and  by  the  latter  was  the  former 
guided  in  the  case  of  Caroline  Bonaparte  as  politi- 
cian ;  for  she  early  learned  to  love,  and  the  object  of 
her  love  became  subsequently  her  husband — JOACHIM 
MURAT. 

It  was  just  after  the  Egyptian  expedition  that 
Joachim  Murat  accompanied  Napoleon  to  Paris. 
His  father  was  but  the  son  of  a  country  innkeeper, 
who  was  also  a  sort  of  steward  to  the  Talleyrand 
family.  Originally,  Joachim  was  destined  for  the 
Church  ;  but  his  individuality  early  displayed  itself 
rather  in  amorous  adventures,  skill  in  horsemanship, 
and  a  combative  faculty  for  fighting  duels,  than  in 
aught  that  could  eventually  lead  to  ecclesiastical  pre- 
ferment. 

General  Bonaparte  was  his  salvation  ;  under  him 
Murat  bravely  fought  as  a  soldier  of  fortune  in 
various  campaigns,  and  this  with  such  prowess  that 
he  soon  became  a  distinguished  member  of  his  per- 
sonal staff.  After  this  he  quickly  won  his  way  to  the 
rank  of  General  of  Brigade,  and  in  that  capacity 
arrived  with  his  heroic  patron  in  Paris. 

There  he  beheld  Caroline  Bonaparte,  and  from  the 


JOSEPHINE,  HORTENSE,  AND  CAROLINE.     77 

first  time  of  their  meeting  she  acknowledged  to  her- 
self that  in  this  man  she  had  encountered  her  destiny. 
For  not  only  was  Joachim  Murat  extremely  hand- 
some— of  that  classically-antique,  yet  modern  mobile 
type  of  beauty  which  well  accorded  with  her  own, — 
but  he  was  brave — he  was  courteous  ;  and  where  is 
the  woman  who  does  not  adore  courage,  and  is  not 
subdued  by  a  brave  man's  courtesy,  reminding  her 
of  chivalrous  deeds  and  days  when  woman  was  the 
guiding  star  to  all  that  was  good  and  great  in  man  ? 

Caroline  Bonaparte  and  Joachim  Murat  were 
worthy  of  each  other,  and  at  the  dawn  of  the  new 
year  1800  they  were  married. 

When  the  First  Empire  was  established,  Murat  was 
made  Marshal  of  France  ;  in  1806,  the  grand  duchy 
of  Berg  and  Cleves  was  given  unto  him,  and  after- 
wards, by  the  then  omnipotent  will  of  his  brother-in- 
law,  he  was  declared  King  of  Naples. 

But  this  is  anticipating.  Let  the  reader  here  go 
back  for  a  short  space,  and  behold  Josephine  installed, 
in  earlier  days,  at  the  Tuileries,  as  First  Consul's  wife, 
with  Caroline  Murat  (Bonaparte)  and  her  own 
daughter,  Hortense,  near  her. 

Hortense  was  lovely,  but  resembling  neither  her 
mother  (conspicuous  for  her  dark  hair,  her  sweet  eyes, 
her  seductive  grace,  and  the  fascination  resulting  from 


78  ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN    OF  FRANCE. 

the  union  of  genuine  kindness  of  heart  with  high  cul- 
tivation of  manners)  nor  Caroline  Bonaparte,  whose 
sculpturesque  beauty  was  at  that  time  animated  by- 
all  the  vivid  hopes  of  life,  and  softened  by  the  most 
voluptuous  dreams  of  love — albeit  a  righteous  and 
consecrated  love. 

Hortense  de  Beauharnais  was  then  a  fair,  poetic 
vision,  more  at  home  in  her  own  apartment,  playing 
upon  the  harp  soft  music,  and  singing  sweet  songs, 
both  of  her  own  composition,  than  amidst  the  brilliant 
and  military  Court  which  began  to  assemble  around 
her  mother  and  step-father. 

But,  nevertheless,  that  Court  had  for  her  its  own 
especial  attraction,  for  ere  she  had  been  long  at  the 
Tuileries  she  loved  General  Duroc,  Bonaparte's  first 
aide-de-camp,  and  to  please  him,  doubtless,  were  first 
developed  in  her  that  ineffable  charm  of  manner,  that 
exquisite  taste  in  dress,  that  perfection  of  all  feminine 
mental  accomplishments,  which  are  inseparably  asso- 
ciated with  the  name  of  this  illustrious  woman,  artiste, 
queen,  poetess,  and  musician. 

She  loved  Duroc,  and  that  at  an  age  when  to  doubt 
his  sworn  love  for  her  would  have  been  a  dishonour 
to  herself.  Napoleon  was  aware  of  this  mutual  affec- 
tion, but  it  scarcely  suited  his  increasing  ambition  to 
authorize   the    marriage   of    his   step-daughter   with 


QUEEN     HORTENSE. 


JOSEPHINE,  HORTENSE,  AND   CAROLINE.     79 

Duroc,  for  already  he  had  other  views  concerning 
her.  He  therefore  sent  the  lover  of  Hortense  on  a 
mission  to  St.  Petersburg,  there  to  congratulate  the 
new  Czar,  Alexander  I.,  on  his  accession  to  the 
throne  ;  but  a  diligent  correspondence  was  neverthe- 
less secretly  maintained  between  them,  Bourrienne, 
private  secretary  of  Napoleon  (and  afterwards  his 
chief  chronicler),  being  its  medium.  Josephine  and 
Napoleon  had  then  been  married  many  years.  Time 
had  done  nothing  to  abate  affection  on  either  side, 
but  it  had  brought  no  child  to  them,  and  Bonaparte, 
knowing  that  an  imperial  diadem  was  about  to  rest 
on  his  brow,  felt  already  anxious  that  an  heir  should 
be  born  to  the  destiny  awaiting  him — to  the  dynasty 
of  which,  through  all  generations,  he  would  be  re- 
garded as  the  founder. 

He  therefore  conceived  the  idea  that,  by  marrying 
Josephine's  daughter,  Hortense  de  Beauharnais,  to 
his  own  third  brother,  Louis  Bonaparte,  the  united 
blood  of  the  being  most  beloved  by  him  and 
of  himself  would  flow  into  futurity,  and  he  resolved 
that  this  union  should  take  place,  if  possible.  With 
him,  indeed,  at  that  time  nothing  seemed  impossible, 
and  Josephine  was  the  more  readily  persuaded  to 
yield  her  consent  because  she  already  foresaw  the 
necessity  of  an  heir  to  the  throne  of  France,  which 


So  ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF   FRANCE. 

was  about  to  be  reconstructed,  and  because  she  had 
always  found  in  her  brother-in-law,  Louis,  a  kind  friend 
(and  there  were  not  many  for  her)  in  her  husband's 
family. 

She  did  not  believe  that  there  was  anything  really 
serious  in  the  affection  of  her  own  daughter  for 
Duroc  ;  but,  whether  or  not,  Napoleon  resolved  to 
test  it,  which  he  did  in  the  following  manner,  as 
related  by  de  Bourrienne  : — 

Duroc  returned  to  Paris  from  his  embassy  to 
Russia,  and  Bonaparte  said  to  de  Bourrienne  con- 
cerning that  young  general,  "  Tell  him  that  if  he 
wed  my  step-daughter,  he  will  only  have  with  her  a 
dowry  of  some  five  or  six  hundred  thousand  francs, 
that  I  shall  at  once  give  him  an  appointment  which 
will  necessitate  his  residence  at  Toulon,  whither  he 
must  take  his  wife,  and  that,  henceforth,  he  and  I  are 
personally  strangers  to  each  other." 

Josephine  had  meantime  spoken  to  Hortense  of 
the  difficulties  impeding  her  union  with  Duroc  ;  but 
Hortense,  joyful  as  she  at  that  moment  was  as  to  the 
return  of  her  lover  from  St.  Petersburg  to  Paris, 
believed  that  nothing  in  this  world  could  ever  again 
separate  them.  Had  such  a  glorious  belief  in  man's 
fidelity  only  rested  on  a  fidelity  worthy  of  it,  how 
happy   might  not   Hortense  and  the   object  of   her 


JOSEPHINE,    HORTENSE,    AND    CAROLINE.     81 

choice  have  been !  But  Duroc,  brave  man  in  battle 
though  he  was,  had  not  strength  enough  to  stand  the 
test  of  the  ordeal  to  which  he  was  subjected,  and 
he  resigned  all  claims  to  the  hand  of  his  lately- 
betrothed,  Hortense  de  Beauharnais.  Wherefore,  it  be- 
came Josephine's  terrible  duty  to  inform  her  daughter 
that  such  was  the  case.  And  here  let  it  be  said,  that 
if  (as  some  historians  assert)  she  was  the  prime  agent 
in  this  cruel  affair,  she  must  have  suffered  at  that 
moment  more  deeply  than  words  can  tell,  for  none 
can  deny  that  Josephine  was  of  most  tender  heart, 
and  a  mother  who,  in  the  time  of  adversity,  had  per- 
formed heroic  acts  of  self-sacrifice  in  behalf  of  her 
children. 

Hortense  listened  to  the  decree ;  she  uttered  no 
complaint,  but  her  heart  was  none  the  less  broken  ; 
the  spell  of  all  her  sweetest  illusions  as  to  love  and  life 
was  broken  for  ever,  when  she  heard  that  Duroc  had 
deserted  her. 

Henceforth,  she  cared  not  what  became  of  her,  and 
pride  alone  sustained  her.  It  was  therefore  not  too 
difficult  a  task  to  induce  her  to  wed  Louis  Bona- 
parte, for  anything  was  better  than  to  play  the 
part  of  a  forsaken  maiden,  not  only  in  the  eyes 
of  Paris,  but  in  full  view  of  the  man  for  whom  she 
would  willingly  have  sacrificed  her  life ;    and  upon 


82  ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF  FRANCE. 

the  7th  day  of  January,  1802,  she  married  Louis 
Bonaparte. 

They  were  almost  strangers  to  each  other.  His 
disposition  was  amiable,  his  habits  studious,  but  he 
was  allowed  no  time  before  marriage,  either  to  soothe 
the  wounded  heart  or  to  ascertain  the  various  accom- 
plishments and  merits  of  the  wife  forced,  against  her 
will,  upon  him. 

They  regarded  each  other  more  as  enemies  than 
riends,  though  each,  in  his,  and  her  especial  way, 
was  excellent. 

Splendid  were  the  festivities  by  which  their  union 
was  inaugurated,  but  amidst  all  the  gay  guests  who 
flocked  to  the  Tuileries  in  honour  of  this  alliance,  the 
bride  and  bridegroom  were  mournful.  The  Cardinal 
Caprera  had  solemnized  their  union,  and  this,  by  many 
of  the  old  noblesse,  then  lately  returned  from  exile, 
was  regarded  as  a  happy  omen,  considering  how  long 
all  religious  ceremonial  had  been  abolished  in  France. 

Many  points  of  intellectual  sympathy  there  were 
between  Louis  Bonaparte  and  his  young  wife,  Hor- 
tense ;  but  it  was  not  until  they  were  about  to 
become  parents  that  any  sign  of  reciprocity  was 
evoked  between  them.  A  male  child  was  born  to 
them,  all  sorts  of  calumnies  having  been  meantime 
set  afloat. 


JOSEPHINE,    HORTENSE,    AND    CAROLINE.     83 

Had  that  child  lived,  the  future  life  of  Hortense 
might  have  been  happier  than  it  was  ;  but  the  child 
died,  and  henceforth  she  sought  to  amuse  herself  in 
art,  in  literature,  in  society,  in  all  that  can  impart 
brilliance  to  the  outer  life  of  a  woman,  young,  beau- 
tiful, accomplished,  as  she  was  ;  but  a  life  apart  from 
all  for  which  she  had  yearned — the  real  life  of  heart 
and  home. 

When  Napoleon  Bonaparte  was  crowned  Emperor, 
and  Josephine  Empress,  the  latter  derived  no  happi- 
ness from  the  dignity  which  had  accrued  to  her, 
neither  did  her  daughter  Hortense  feel  pleasure  in 
being  henceforth  styled  a  Princess  of  France,  and 
addressed  as  "  Imperial  Highness." 

The  double  prediction  was  fulfilled  respecting 
Josephine — that  prophecy  which,  first  uttered  by  the 
negress  of  Martinique,  had  since  been  repeated  by 
Cagliostro,  that  she  would  be  "  more  than  a  Queen." 

In  the  month  of  December,  1804,  Napoleon  and 
Josephine  were  crowned  at  Notre  Dame.  The 
presence  of  the  Pope  in  Paris  at  that  time  was 
welcome  to  the  Empress  for  other  reasons  than  those 
appertaining  to  any  thought  of  worldly  ambition  or 
earthly  pomp  ;  for — although  still  extremely  lovely  in 
person,  and  much  loved  by  the  imperial  husband 
whom  she  had  wedded  when  he  had  only,  as  a  soldier 


84  ILLUSTRIOUS  WOMEN   OF   FRANCE. 

of  fortune,  his  "  cloak  and  his  sword "  to  offer  her, 
and  although  her  marriage  with  that  husband  (ori- 
ginally performed  according  to  civil  contract  only) 
was  renewed,  or  rather  solemnized,  in  the  Chapel 
of  the  Tuileries,  on  the  "eve  of  her  coronation  as  his 
Empress,  she  was  haunted  by  vague  presentiments, 
and  felt  in  much  need  of  consolation  beyond  the 
power  of  this  world  to  give. 

Louis  Bonaparte  was  first  made  Co7inctable  of 
France,  and  "subsequently  King  of  Holland.  Other 
brothers  of  Napoleon  gladly  accepted  the  various 
crowns  of  Europe  offered  by  him  to  them,  but  it  was 
not  without  extreme  reluctance  that  Louis  permitted 
that  of  Holland  to  be  placed  upon  his  brow,  and  in 
this  reluctance  his  wife,  Hortense,  sympathized  with 
him  ;  for  by  their  elevation  to  power  they  were  neces- 
sarily removed  from  Paris,  and  therefore  thrown  more 
than  hitherto  into  the  society  of  each  other. 

Another  son  had  been  born  to  Hortense  about  the 
time  of  the  coronation  of  her  mother,  as  Empress.  In 
this  child  the  Emperor  took  great  delight,  and  it  was 
generally  believed  that  he  would  succeed  to  the  throne 
of  France  ;  but  just  as  the  boy  (Napoleon  Charles  he 
was  called)  began  to  be  an  object  of  interest  to  all 
around  him,  he  died  of  croup  ;  and  by  this  event  King 
Louis  and  Queen  Hortense  at  the  Hague,  the  Em- 


JOSEPHINE,    HORTENSE,    AND    CAROLINE.     85 

peror  Napoleon  with  the  Empress  Josephine  in 
France,  were  enshrouded  in  gloom. 

The  malady  of  which  the  child  had  died  was  not 
then  a  subject  of  professional  study  such  as  it  has 
since  become  in  France,  and  it  seemed  to  the  imperial 
and  royal  family  of  France  and  Holland  that  destiny, 
as  to  the  matter  of  succession  to  the  two  thrones,  was 
against  it. 

Yet  none  the  less  did  Queen  Hortense  and  King 
Louis  well  perform  their  duties  to  the  people  over 
whom  they  had  been  commanded  to  reign.  King 
Louis  had  taken  a  solemn  oath  to  respect  the  liberties 
and  defend  the  just  rights  of  the  nation  which  had 
voluntarily  accepted  him  as  sovereign,  and  none 
better  than  his  accomplished  consort,  Hortense,  could 
infuse  into  the  mind  of  that  nation  how  to  blend 
grace  of  form  with  utility  of  fabric  ;  how  to  combine 
sturdiness  of  character  with  elegance  of  manner ;  nor, 
whilst  thus  unconsciously  imparting  new  life  to  Dutch 
manufactures  and  society,  did  she  forget  the  poorest  of 
her  subjects,  for,  even  after  two  other  sons  were  born 
to  her,  she  seemed  to  find  consolation  where  she 
sought  it — in  the  homes  of  her  grateful  subjects. 

During  this  time  the  royal  abode  at  the  Hague  was 
often  desolate,  for,  when  not  chained  there  by  the 
duties  he  owed  to  his  people,  King  Louis  travelled 


86  ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF   FRANCE. 

about  Europe,  sometimes  resting  in  some  sheltered 
nook  of  the  Pyrenees,  sometimes  taking  up  his  tem- 
porary abode  at  the  Chateau  de  St.  Leu  (which  he 
had  purchased,  and  whence  he  derived  his  title  of 
Comte  de  St.  Leu),  whilst  his  wife  and  her  two  surviv- 
ing children  found  a  refuge  in  Paris.  The  youngest 
of  those  children  (since  known  to  the  world  as 
Napoleon  III.)  was  born  at  the  Tuileries  upon  the 
20th  day  of  April,  1808,  but  gloomy  at  that  date  were 
the  forebodings  of  Hortense  regarding  her  beloved 
mother  Josephine,  for  it  was  already  rumoured  that 
the  Emperor  Napoleon  was  so  far  misled  by  the 
erratic  star  of  ambition  beyond  the  guiding  star  of 
love  (for  he  had  never  ceased  to  love  Josephine),  that 
he  intended  to  divorce  her  and  to  enthrone  in  her 
place  another,  who  might  give  unto  him  a  legitimate 
heir  to  the  Empire  which  he  had  founded. 

Josephine  felt,  rather  than  knew,  that  such  was  her 
husband's  intention,  but  she  tried  to  disbelieve  the 
possibility  of  it.  In  October,  1809,  she  was  at  St. 
Cloud  when  he  returned  to  France  after  the  only  too 
celebrated  negotiations  of  Schonbrunn :  he  went 
straight  to  Fontainebleau,  but  she  hastened  thither  to 
greet  him. 

She  found  him  much  engaged  with  his  generals 
and  secretaries  ;  he  tried  to  find  fault  with  her  be- 


JOSEPHINE,    HORTENSE,    AND    CAROLINE.     87 

cause  of  the  lateness  of  her  arrival ;  she  soothed  and 
fascinated  him  by  endearing  words ;  that  day  she  was 
even  more  than  usually  elegant  in  her  attire,  so  much 
so  that  it  drew  flattering  words  from  the  Emperor,  ere 
conducting  her  from  his  study,  where  she  had  rejoined 
him,  to  the  dining-room.  There,  she  sought  to  keep 
up  an  animated  conversation,  though  her  heart  was 
sorely  ill  at  ease  ;  and  during  her  evening  reception 
she  was  most  singularly  conspicuous  for  the  grace  of 
her  demeanour  and  the  affability  by  which,  without 
derogating  from  her  dignity,  she  habitually  charmed 
everybody  who  approached  her. 

But  she  knew  that  the  decree  was  already  pro- 
nounced against  her ;  she  felt  that  she  was  no  longer 
the  wife  of  Napoleon  save  in  name  and  by  law.  By 
love  also  on  his  side  and  on  hers,  but  he  strove  to 
shun  all  evidence  of  that  love,  and  her  pride  was 
roused  by  his  avoidance  of  her. 

To  Queen  Hortense,  then  in  France,  the  Emperor 
made  a  request  that  she  would  calmly  speak  to 
Josephine  of  the  divorce  rendered  necessary  by 
political  circumstances,  but  Hortense  declared  herself 
incapable  of  "  plunging  a  dagger  "  into  her  mother's 
breast.  Prince  Eugene,  her  son,  was  likewise  unequal 
to  the  occasion.  It  therefore  fell  to  the  lot  of  Fouche, 
the    crafty    minister,    whom    (speaking    years    after- 


ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF   FRANCE. 


wards  at  St.  Helena)  Napoleon  declared  to  have  been 
worse  than  Robespierre, — Fouche,  with  his  faithless 
heart  and  pallid  face — it  fell  to  his  lot  to  inform 
Josephine,  during  her  last  stay  at  Fontainebleau,  of 
the  destiny  awaiting  her.  After  her  interview  with 
him,  she  sent  for  her  kinsman,  Count  Lavallette  (he 
had  married  one  of  the  Beauharnais  family),  who 
happened  to  arrive  just  then  at  Fontainebleau,  and  in 
broken  accents,  repeated  the  substance  of  her  recent 
interview  with  Fouche  thus : — 

"  He  told  me  that  I  must  offer  to  France  and  the 
Emperor  a  great  proof  of  devotion  ;  .  .  .  that  my  hus- 
band must  leave  behind  him  children  who  may  per- 
petuate his  name,  and  give  to  France  a  family  that 
may  deprive  the  Bourbons  of  all  hope  of  return.  . .  . 
'  Madam,'  added  he,  '  you  are  in  this  respect  the  only 
obstacle  to  the  enduring  happiness  of  France.  .  .  . 
Your  noble  mind  will  easily  learn  resignation  for  the 
sake  of  a  man  who  is  wholly  devoted  to  you.  .  .  .  Be 
greater  than  even  the  Emperor  is  great,  and  give  this 
last  token  of  devotion  to  your  husband,  your  country, 
and  your  sovereign.' " 

Much  more  did  Fouche  say  upon  this  point ;  but 
already  was  the  Empress  Josephine  resolved  on  self- 
sacrifice  ere  she  sent  for  Count  Lavallette  to  come  to 
her  at  Fontainebleau  in  her  own  private  apartments, 


JOSEPHINE,   HORTENSE,    AND    CAROLINE.     89 

where  lately  she  had  passed  days  and  nights  of  agony. 
It  was  sympathy  that  she  sought  in  her  kind  kins- 
man, rather  than  advice  from  him.  Wherefore  it 
matters  little  what  Lavallette  said  to  her ;  she  believed 
herself  prepared  to  endure  the  coming  stroke ;  she 
armed  herself  with  all  a  woman's  pride ;  she  took  her 
place  at  table,  as  usual,  at  the  evening  dinner-hour, 
and,  to  all  outward  appearance,  seemed  much  more 
gay  there  than  either  the  Emperor  or  her  daughter 
Hortense. 

Josephine  played  a  brave  part,  but  the  tension  of 
nerves  enabling  her  so  to  do  was  too  intense  in  its 
agony ;  for,  presently,  when  the  various  members 
of  her  Court  and  Queen  Hortense  having  retired, 
she  found  herself  alone,  tete-a-tete,  with  her  husband, 
she  could  scarcely  endure  the  pain  of  his  presence. 
There  was  no  longer  any  concealment  between  them 
upon  the  subject  uppermost  in  both  their  minds.  His 
hand — that  hand  which  had  so  bravely  borne  the 
sword  in  battle,  trembled  to  such  a  degree  that  he 
found  himself  incapable  even  of  holding  a  cup  of 
coffee  which  had  been  handed  to  him.  He  advanced 
towards  her  ;  he  took  her  hand  and  placed  it  on  his 
heart,  so  that  she  might  feel  its  terrible  pulsations  ; 
but  Josephine  felt  outraged  by  this  act,  and  she 
quickly  receded     from  the    being    whom    she    most 


90  ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF  FRANCE. 

adored  in  this  world,  although  at  that  moment  so 
great  was  the  anguish  of  separation  from  him  that 
she  fainted,  and  fell  at  his  feet  like  one  dead. 

Many  hours  elapsed  ere  she  was  restored  to  con- 
sciousness. She  found  herself  in  her  own  apart- 
ment, whither  she  had  been  conveyed,  with  her 
daughter  Hortense  and  Napoleon  near  her.  Dr. 
Corvisart,  her  medical  attendant,  felt  that  he  had 
done  a  cruelty  in  helping  to  restore  her  to  life  ;  but 
she  turned  to  the  husband,  who  in  fact  was  hers  no 
longer,  and  said,  with  a  forced  smile  even  worse  than 
his  tears  to  behold,  "  Oh,  if  you  had  not  made  me 
wear  a  crown  !  " 

In  the  feverish  dreams  that  followed  did  she  think 
of  her  careless  and  happy  childhood  at  Martinique, 
when  the  negress  predicted  that  she  should  be  more 
than  Queen  ?  Did  she  again  behold  Cagliostro  shuf- 
fling his  gigantic  cards,  and  spreading  them  out 
before  him,  as  he  repeated  that  same  prediction  ? 

Who  can  tell  ?  The  facts  of  the  case  alone  re- 
main, and  these  are  only  too  easily  told  ;  for  very 
soon  afterwards,  that  is  to  say,  upon  the  15th  of 
December,  in  that  same  fast  expiring  year,  at  nine 
o'clock  in  the  evening,  the  divorce  of  Napoleon  from 
Josephine  was  formally  pronounced  at  the  Tuileries. 

"  Madame  Mere,"  the  sybil-looking  mother  of  the 


JOSEPHINE,    HORTENSE,    AND    CAROLINE.     91 

Emperor,  was  there.  The  King  and  Queen  of  Holland 
(Louis  and  Hortense,  who  seldom  met  elsewhere) 
stood  the're  also ;  Caroline  Bonaparte  (newly  created 
Queen  of  Naples)  and  her  husband,  Murat,  King  of 
Naples,  were  there.  Other  members  also  of  Napo- 
leon's family,  and  Prince  Eugene,  his  brave  stepson, 
to  whom  the  Emperor,  when  only  a  soldier  of  fortune, 
originally  owed  (as  in  these  pages  already  told)  his 
introduction  to  the  woman  he  was  now  about  to  put 
away  from  him.  The  chief  officers  of  state  and  civil 
law  were  likewise  present,  prepared  to  do  their  part ; 
but  when  Napoleon,  in  presence  of  Josephine,  read, 
with  a  tolerably  firm  voice,  the  deed  by  which  his 
marriage  with  her  was  dissolved,  it  was  sad  for  those 
who  heard  him  to  behold  the  misery  that  contracted 
his  features.  Every  word  uttered  by  him  did  all 
justice  to  her  virtues,  and  to  the  great  happiness 
which  had  accrued  to  him  from  his  union  with  her ; 
but  the  greater  the  justice  he  thus  rendered  to 
Josephine,  the  more  he  seemed  to  stab  her  broken 
heart ;  for,  when  it  came  to  her  turn  to  read  the 
document  prepared  for  her,  her  voice  was  unable  to 
sustain  itself;  sobs  impeded  her  usually  sweet  and 
clear  utterance,  and  she  handed  the  paper  to  M.  Reg- 
nault  de  Saint  Jean  d'Angely,  with  a  motion  of  the 
hand  which  authorised  his  conclusion  of  its  perusal 


92  ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN    OF  FRANCE. 

aloud.  This  mournful  ceremonial  finished,  Napo- 
leon turned  to  Josephine ;  all  ties  were  severed  for 
ever  between  them  in  this  world, — ties  of  law,  civil 
and  ecclesiastical, — but  those  of  love  were  not  to  be 
so  easily  sundered.  He  kissed  her  ;  in  a  voice  of 
intense  emotion  he  tried  to  thank  her  ;  but,  for  her, 
utterance  was  impossible ;  and,  supported  by  her 
two  children,  Hortense  and  Eugene,  she  quitted 
his  presence,  leaving  many  mournful  hearts  behind 
her. 

A  few  hours  afterwards  she  started  for  Malmaison, 
that  chateau  upon  which,  at  the  time  of  Napoleon's 
expedition  into  Egypt,  she  had  lavished  all  that 
woman's  love,  and  artistic  taste,  and  newly-acquired 
wealth  could  suggest  to  her,  so  that  it  might  be  a 
haven  of  repose  for  the  one  being  most  dear  to  her 
in  this  world. 

She  entered  it  now  without  him  ;  she  beheld  the 
study  where  he  had  written — the  maps  still  lying  on 
that  study-table,  marked  out  for  his  various  cam- 
paigns ;  the  pen  he  had  used  ;  the  arm-chair  in  which 
he  had  rested,  and  chatted  to  her  in  happy  leisure 
hours.  She  looked  at  the  walls,  and  beheld  a  fine 
portrait  of  herself  in  gleaming  diadem  and  imperial 
robes.  She  looked  again,  and  saw  a  case  containing 
the  hair  of  her  once  husband-hero,   cut  off  from  his 


JOSEPHINE,    HORTENSE,    AND    CAROLINE.     93 


head  in  the  long  past  happy  time  of  their  marriage, 
when  he  was  only  "  dear  Bonaparte,"  and  which  she 
had  caused  to  be  arranged  in  fantastic  form  most 
flattering  to  him. 

All  this,  and  much  more,  she  saw ;  *  and  seeing, 
she  felt  that  nothing  had  changed  but  her  own  sad 
self.  Yet,  not  in  heart !  for  she  forthwith  resolved 
that  no  hand  but  her  own  should  ever  arrange  that 
special  chamber  sacred  to  the  past ;  and  thus  it 
came  to  be  that  though,  in  time,  a  miniature  court 
was  formed  about  her  at  Malmaison,  and  though  the 
conventions  of  that  court  compelled  her  to  smile  and 
act  in  society  as  formerly,  yet  all  things  personally 
connected  with  the  husband  who  had  separated  him- 
self from  her  remained  exactly  as  he  had  left  them 
in  the  sanctuary — for  so  she  deemed  it — consecrated 
to  mutual  memories. 

She  heard  of  the  arrival  of  her  successor,  the 
Austrian  Marie  Louise,  in  Paris,  and  she  helped  to 
prevail  on  her  daughter,  Hortense,  to  comply  with 
the   urgent  wish,  or  rather   command,  of  Napoleon 

*  Lest  the  writer  of  the  text  above  should  be  suspected  of  exaggeration 
regarding  the  much-disputed,  (according  to  political  party-feeling),  cha- 
racter of  Josephine,  it  is  as  well  here  to  state  that  the  facts  recorded  are 
originally  due  to  the  statement  of  more  than  one  English  visitor  at 
Malmaison  in  the  time  of  the  ex-Empress,  from  whose  memory  Time 
has  even  yet  not  obliterated  the  objects,  &c,  conspicuous  there. 


94  ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF  FRANCE. 

that  she  should  repair  to  the  Tuileries  so  as  to  render 
all  honour  to  the  new  Empress  about  to  reign  there. 
For  a  time  Josephine  repaired  to  her  Chateau  of 
Navarre,  the  other  home  assigned  to  her  by  Imperial 
will ;  but  she  soon  returned  to  that  of  Malmaison, 
which,  being  within  easy  reach  of  Paris,  allowed  her 
to  enjoy  the  frequent  society  of  her  daughter  Hor- 
tense,  and  that  Queen's  sons. 

Josephine  was  no  longer  happy  herself,  but  she 
succeeded  in  making  those  around  her  so  ;  and  yet, 
fearful  lest  the  younger  members  of  her  Court  should 
believe  too  much  in  the  stability  of  earthly  things, 
Avhich,  to  her,  had  been  but  illusions,  she  sometimes 
tried  to  teach  them  a  lesson  in  her  gentle  and  unpre- 
tending way, — as  the  following  anecdote,  recorded  by 
one  of  her  hearers,  may  show. 

"  One  day  we,  with  the  cruel  indiscretion  of  crude 
youth,  asked  the  Empress  to  let  us  look  at  her  dia- 
monds. These,  which  the  Emperor  had  refused  to 
receive  back  from  her  hands,  when  she  offered  them 
to  him,  formed — with  other  gems  in  her  possession — 
one  of  the  most,  or  rather  the  most,  superb  collection 
in  Europe — for  many  of  them  had  been  offered  to 
Napoleon  by  various  cities  in  the  various  countries  of 
Europe  which  he  had  conquered.  They  were  usually 
kept  in  a  cavcau  secret,   of  which  two  personages  in 


JOSEPHINE,    HORTENSE,    AND    CAROLINE.     95 


the  service  of  the  Empress  were  constituted  guardians. 
But,  always  willing  to  comply  with  the  requests  of 
those  about  her,  she  ordered  that  these  wondrous 
gems  should  be  brought  forth  and  displayed  on  a 
large  table  prepared  to  receive  them.  They  were 
wonderful,  magnificent ;  diamonds,  oval-shaped  pearls, 
opals  gleaming  like  rainbows,  rubies,  emeralds ;  the 
celebrated  brignolettes  (each  one  a  priceless  pear- 
shaped  diamond),  which  once  had  belonged  to  Queen 
Marie  Antoinette. 

"  We  were  almost  speechless  with  astonishment, 
just  as  though  some  fairy  tale  were  enacted  before  us. 
The  Empress  Josephine  looked  at  us  with  her  tender 
eyes  and  smiled  a  sweet  smile,  whilst  we  eagerly 
touched  and  examined  the  wonders  before  us.  Then 
she  said, — 

"  '  It  is  true  that  these  baubles  have  given  me 
pleasure  in  my  time,  but  not  an  enduring  pleasure,  as 
these  may  bear  testimony '  (and,  so  saying,  she  took 
up  the  brignolettes  of  Marie  Antoinette,  mournfully). 
4  Yea,  more,'  she  added,  '  for  I  declare  to  you,  young 
ladies,  that  not  one  of  these  ornaments  ever  gave 
such  happiness  to  me  as  did  once  the  unexpected 
possession  of  an  old  pair  of  shoes.' 

"  'An  old  pair  of  shoes ! '  we  cried  ;  '  but  what  can 
your  Majesty  mean  ? ' 


96         ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF  FRANCE. 

" '  I  mean,'  said  she,  '  that  when  I  was  forced  to 
quit  Martinique  with  my  daughter  Hortense,  before 
my  perfect  reconciliation  with  her  father,  I  was  so 
poor  that  the  kindness  of  those  on  board  who  supplied 
many  of  my  wants  can  never  be  effaced  from  my 
heart* 

"  '  Whilst  I  was  resting  in  my  cabin  below,  the 
child,  who  had  been  taught  strange,  fantastic,  yet 
graceful  dances  by  the  natives  of  Martinique,  used  to 
go  on  deck,  and,  for  the  sake  of  exercise,  perform 
some  of  these — much  to  the  delight  of  the  passengers 
in  general,  but  especially  so  to  that  of  an  honest  old 
sailor,  who  called  her  his  '  little  love.'  One  day  the 
child  entered  my  small  miserable  cabin  with  bleeding 
feet.  She  could  not  conceal  the  fact  from  me,  for 
every  footstep  she  took  stained  the  floor. 

"  '  Hortense,'  said  I,  '  what  is  the  matter  ? '  She 
tried  to  soothe  my  alarm ;  but,  upon  examination,  I. 
found  that  the  shoes  which  she  had  worn  on  leaving 
Martinique  (the  only  ones  she  still  possessed)  were  in 
tatters,  and  that  one  of  her  feet  had  been  wounded 

*  It  will  here  be  remembered  how,  as  recounted  in  a  previous  page 
of  this  present  narrative,  Josephine — when  about  to  rejoin  her  first 
husband,  the  Vicomte  de  Eeauharnais,  in  France — was  compelled  to 
quit  her  native  Martinique  suddenly  (and  without  adequate  preparation 
for  the  voyage)  by  the  negro  insurrection  which  threatened  her  life  and 
that  of  her  daughter. 


JOSEPHINE,    HORTENSE,    AND    CAROLINE.     97 

by  an  iron  nail  so  badly  that  perhaps  the  flow  of 
blood  was  the  best  remedy  for  the  evil. 

"  '  She  was  brave,  but  I  began  to  cry,  and  presently 
we  were  both  in  tears,  for  I  saw  no  way  by  which  I 
could  possibly  allow  her  to  continue  her  healthy 
exercise  on  deck.  Just  then,  down  came  the  old 
sailor  to  look  after  his  "  little  love." 

"  '  We  told  him  the  cause  of  our  distress.  "  Is  that 
all  ? "  cried  he  ;  "  why,  I  have  an  old  pair  of  shoes 
in  my  sea-chest."  He  then  continued,  turning  to  me, 
apologetically,  "  You  see,  Madame,  we  must  not  be 
too  dainty  aboard  ship  ;  we  must  accommodate  our- 
selves to  circumstances,  and,  provided  we  have  what 
is  necessary,  why — c  est  le  plus  principal !  " 

"'Away  he  went,  without  giving  me  time  to  an- 
swer, and  back  he  soon  came  triumphantly,  bringing 
with  him  a  coarse  old  pair  of  shoes,  the  sight  of 
which  was  hailed  by  Hortense  with  joy,  and  upon 
them  I,  assisted  by  our  friend,  at  once  set  to  work 
successfully.  My  daughter  was  thus  enabled  to  re- 
sume her  dances,  and,  as  for  me,  I  only  regret  that, 
in  the  midst  of  all  my  subsequent  splendour,  I  have 
never  been  able  to  testify  my  gratitude  to  that  honest 
old  sailor  ;  for  all  I  know  about  him,  more  than  I 
have  told  you,  is  that  his  name  was  Jacques.' 

"  Some  of  the   young  ladies  in  waiting  who  had 


98  ILLUSTRIOUS    WOMEN   OF    FRANCE. 

listened  to  this  little  anecdote  from  the  lips  of  their 
gentle,  though  Imperial  mistress,  were  impressed  by  it, 
but  others  still  seemed  fascinated  by  the  sight  of  the 
superb  gems  displayed  before  them ;  whereupon  the 
Empress  said  :  'It  is  well  that  it  should  be  so,  if 
indeed  the  memory  of  these  things  should  make  you 
discontented  with  similar,  though  inferior,  baubles 
hereafter.'  " 

At  this  time  Napoleon  wrote  constantly  to 
Josephine,  and  she  made  no  concealment  of  the 
eager  joy  with  which  his  letters  were  received.  When 
the  one  reached  her  by  special  courier,  telling  her  of 
the  birth  of  his  son,  the  infant  "  King  of  Rome,"  her 
own  son,  Prince  Eugene,  happened  to  be  near  her. 
For  some  time  she  was  alone  with  him,  but — what- 
ever the  agony  of  mind  undergone  by  her  during 
that  hour, — she  presently  came  forth,  and,  whilst 
courteously  confiding  a  congratulatory  answer  to  the 
bearer  of  the  despatch,  presented  him  with  a  diamond 
pin. 

During  her  residence  at  Malmaison,  especially  in 
the  earlier  period  of  her  divorce,  Napoleon  used  fre- 
quently to  visit  her  there ;  but  the  interviews  which 
then  took  place  between  them  must  have  been  a 
source  more  of  pain  than  pleasure  to  her,  for  it  was 
so  arranged  that,  though  out  of  hearing,  they  were 


JOSEPHINE,    HORTENSE,   AND    CAROLINE.     99 

never  beyond  the  sight  of  her  court.  Sometimes 
lookers  on  could  guess,  by  the  action  of  her  elegantly 
mobile  hand,  or  a  glimpse  of  her  expressive  face,  that 
the  conversation  between  them  was  either  painful  or 
pleasing,  though  generally  her  demeanour  after  his 
departure  was  naturally  overshadowed  by  an  air  of 
melancholy. 

She  loved  him  better  than  she  loved  herself,  as  was 
only  too  well  demonstrated  after  his  abdication.  She 
thought  of  others  more  than  of  herself,  as  the  follow- 
ing particulars  concerning  her  last  days  may  testify. 

It  was  in  the  month  of  May,  18 14  ;  Napoleon  I.  was 
banished  to  the  Isle  of  Elba ;  the  Allied  Sovereigns 
had  just  entered  Paris ;  his  second  wife,  Marie  Louise, 
and  his  young  son,  had  taken  flight  from  France, 
and  sought  a  refuge  in  Vienna ;  the  Ex-Empress 
Josephine  was  at  her  suburban  chateau  of  Mal- 
maison ;  her  son,  Eugene  de  Beauharnais,  was  with 
her  there ;  likewise  her  daughter,  Queen  Hortense, 
and  that  daughter's  two  surviving  sons,  the  younger 
of  whom  has  since  become  known  to  the  world  as 
Napoleon  III. 

The  Emperor  Alexander  of  Russia  was  an  assi- 
duous guest  at  Malmaison.  He  was  chivalrous  in 
heart  and  conduct,  a  brave  man,  but  none  the  less  of 
an  imaginative  temperament;    so  much  so,  indeed, 


ioo        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF   FRANCE. 

that  by  many  of  his  contemporaries  he  was  regarded 
as  a  mystic,  a  seer  of  visions,  and  a  believer  in  more 
things  than  are  generally  supposed  to  belong  to  this 
world's  philosophy.  It  has  before  been  stated  in 
these  pages  that  Josephine  was  not  free  from  super- 
stition. The  reader  has  here  seen  her  listening  to  the 
prophecy  of  the  old  negress  in  her  native  Martinique, 
to  the  effect  that  she  would  some  day  be  crowned 
both  Queen  and  Empress  :  that  prediction  had  come 
true.  Cagliostro  had  also  foretold  strange  things  to 
her,  which  had  since  been  realised  ;  but  one  part  of 
his  prophecy,  viz.,  that  she  would  "  die  on  a  dung- 
hill," seemed  as  unlikely  as  ever  to  be  fulfilled,  even 
though  she  had  descended  from  the  throne,  when  she 
received,  in  that  month  of  May,  1814,  her  illustrious 
guests  at  her  chateau  of  la  Malmaison.  Amongst 
these  guests  was  Lord  Beverley,  and  to  him  Josephine 
expressed  her  extreme  respect  for  and  admiration  of 
the  English  character  generally.  The  battle  of 
Waterloo  had  yet  to  be  fought,  but  from  the  utter- 
ances of  Josephine  it  seems  that  to  England's  honour 
she  would  rather  confide  the  safety  of  one  dear  to  her 
than  to  that  of  any  other  nation.  Little  could  she 
tell  that  her  daughter's  youngest  son,  Louis  Napo- 
leon, would  in  after  years  not  only  succeed  her  own 
Imperial  but  then  banished  and  divorced  husband  on 


JOSEPHINE,    HORTENSE,    AND    CAROLINE.   101 

the  throne  of  France,  but  eventually  find  a  refuge 
and  an  exile's  grave  in  the  land  of  which  she  had 
formed  so  exalted  an  opinion  !  He,  the  child  then, 
the  Emperor  in  long  after  years,  was  present  at 
Malmaison  when  Josephine  there  expressed  her  pre- 
dilection for  England  ;  and  the  time  when  she  did  so 
express  herself  was  never  likely  to  be  forgotten  by 
him,  for  he  cherished  and  revered  her  memory. 

Josephine,  who  had  rejoiced  less  in  her  titles  of 
Empress  and  Queen  than  in  that  which  gratefully 
proclaimed  her  "  Friend  of  the  poor  and  unfortunate," 
played  a  brilliant  part  as  hostess  at  Malmaison  in  that 
year  of  Imperial  misfortune,  1814 ;  but  her  heart  was 
breaking  with  sympathy  for  the  husband  who  had 
put  her  away  from  him,  and  yet  who  was  still  pas- 
sionately beloved  by  her. 

When  she  heard  that  Marie  Louise  had  deserted 
him  in  his  misfortune,  she  cried,  "  Oh  !  had  I  still  the 
right  to  be  near  him  and  console  him,  how  happy  I 
should  be  in  sharing  his  exile !  "  But  this  was  impos- 
sible, and  though  surrounded  by  illustrious  guests, 
though  soothed  in  a  measure  by  the  presence  of  her 
children  by  her  first  marriage,  the  Ex-Empress  was 
evidently  suffering  acutely  ;  and,  despite  her  heroic 
efforts  to  conceal  her  intense  unhappiness,  despite  her 
wish  at  that  time  to  conciliate  the  Allied  Sovereigns 


102        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF   FRANCE. 

in  behalf  of  the  man  still  regarded  and  adored  by  her 
as  her  husband  in  sight  of  Heaven — notwithstanding 
the  fictitious  letter  of  human  law  which  had  divorced 
her  from  him — the  strain  upon  her  sensitive  nature 
was  too  strong  for  human  endurance,  and  as  the 
month  of  May  progressed,  and  the  flowers  in  which 
she  seemed  to  take  a  sympathetic  delight  bloomed 
more  and  more,  it  was  impossible  for  her  any  longer 
to  deny  that  a  severe  illness  had  taken  possession 
of  her. 

This  illness,  what  was  it  ?  By  some  it  was  called 
a  "  quinsey,"  because  it  affected  her  throat  and  im- 
peded the  breath  of  life.  By  others  it  was  regarded 
as  nothing  but  that  nameless  thing  of  common  name, 
a  "  severe  cold."  Yet  the  fact  of  intense  suffering,  no 
longer  concealable  albeit  patiently  borne,  remained 
the  same,  and  on  Friday,  the  24th  of  May,  whilst 
entertaining  the  Russian  Emperor  Alexander  and 
other  invited  guests  at  dinner,  the  symptoms  were 
such  that  a  sudden  feeling  of  alarm  pervaded  the 
circle  around  her. 

So  restrained,  however,  had  she  been  in  uttering 
either  a  fear  or  complaint  as  to  her  own  health,  that 
the  resident  physician  appointed  to  attend  her  (M. 
Horeau)  had  that  day  gone  to  Paris.  To  her  children 
and  her  guests,  however,  it  became  painfully  evident, 


JOSEPHINE,    HORTENSE,    AND    CAROLINE.   103 

as  evening  advanced,  that  no  time  was  to  be  lost ; 
and  M.  le  Docteur  Horeau  being  still  absent,  a  local 
practitioner  in  the  near  neighbourhood  of  Rueil  was 
hastily  summoned  to  attend  the  Empress.  But  it 
was  already  too  late ;  and  although  all  the  usual 
remedies  for  inflammation  of  the  chest  and  lungs 
were  duly  applied,  the  real  cause  of  the  malady  was 
beyond  the  reach  of  human  aid  ;  for  the  Empress 
Josephine,  though  seemingly  brilliant  and  gay  but  a 
few  hours  since,  was  fast  dying  of  what  is  vulgarly 
but  expressively  called  a  broken  heart. 

She  knew  that  she  was  dying,  and  she  did  not  wish 
to  live  ;  but,  to  the  last,  her  thought  was  all  for  others 
rather  than  for  herself.  This  was  evident,  even  in 
her  conduct  towards  the  much-alarmed  village-doctor 
who  had  been  so  suddenly  summoned  to  attend  her. 
She  saw  that  he  was  afraid  of  the  grave  responsi- 
bility which  had  unexpectedly  devolved  upon  him  ; 
speech  was  every  moment  becoming  more  difficult  to 
her,  but  she  gave  signs  of  kind  encouragement  to 
him  ;  and  when  at  last  Dr.  Horeau — having  been 
fetched  from  Paris — arrived,  she  pressed  his  hand  in 
a  way  to  assure  him  that  she  was  happy,  and  not  at  all 
appalled  by  the  fate  awaiting  her.  With  another  day 
there  dawned  some  signs  of  amendment ;  speech  was 
again  possible  to  her,  and  when  she  heard  that  M. 


104        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF  FRANCE. 

Redoute,  a  celebrated  flower  painter,  had  arrived  at 
Malmaison,  by  appointment,  to  take  a  sketch  of  some 
exquisite  and  rare  flowers  then  blooming  in  one  of 
the  conservatories  there,  she  made  those  around  her 
understand  that  she  wished  to  see  him.  At  the  mo- 
ment of  his  approaching  her  she  kindly  stretched 
forth  her  hand  to  greet  him  ;  but  quickly  remember- 
ing that  the  sore  throat  from  which  she  was  suffering 
might  be  infectious,  she  gently  warned  him  not  to 
come  nearer  to  her,  and  said,  "  Next  week,  dear  sir, 
I  even  now  hope  to  see  you  at  work  on  a  new  chef 
cPceuvre? 

Not  long  after  the  utterance  of  these  few  kind 
words,  she  fell  into  a  state  of  lethargy ;  her  son  and 
daughter,  Eugene  and  Hortense,  were  present,  and 
the  Cure  of  Rueil  was  summoned  to  administer  the 
last  Sacraments  to  her  ;  but,  not  expecting  such  a 
summons,  the  Cure  was  absent,  and  the  tutor  of  the 
young  Prince,  Louis  Napoleon,  being  in  holy  orders, 
but  having  for  some  time  past  ceased  to  officiate  as 
priest,  was  called  upon  to  supply  his  place. 

In  answer  to  the  usual  questions  on  such  solemn 
occasions,  and  still  in  possession  of  her  faculties, 
the  Empress  Josephine  made  her  last  confession. 
Every  moment  her  voice  became  more  and  more 
weak  ;     but    her    countenance    was    calm   and    her 


JOSEPHINE,    HORTENSE,    AND    CAROLINE.   105 

manner  quite  free  from  any  evidence  of  fear  or  ex- 
citement. 

Her  children  were  sorrow-stricken  and  would  not 
leave  her.  Queen  Hortense,  that  loved  daughter  who 
in  years  long  past  had  shared  the  sorrows  and 
poverty  of  the  beloved  and  gentle  mother,  now  fast 
passing  away  from  her  sight,  was  in  despair. 

Her  own  unhappy  marriage  had  thrown  her  back, 
as  it  were,  into  her  mother's  arms  ;  and  the  very  fact 
of  her  having  been  forced  to  become,  in  some  sort,  a 
political  rival  of  that  mother,  as  the  unloving  and 
unloved  wife  of  her  stepfather's  younger  brother,  was 
— strange  to  say — a  bond  of  union,  a  tie  of  sympathy 
the  more  ;  for  Josephine  loved  the  children  of  Hor- 
tense as  though  they  had  been  her  own. 

Just  as  the  flickering  flame  of  life  was  fast  expiring 
the  Emperor  Alexander  of  Russia,  shocked  at  the 
news  which  had  reached  him  that  the  kind  and 
brilliant  hostess,  who,  but  a  few  days  since,  had  wel- 
comed him  to  Malmaison,  was  now  lying  at  the 
point  of  death  there,  gained  admission  to  the  apart- 
ment where  the  awful  mystery  of  separation  between 
soul  and  body  was  impending.  Josephine  recognised 
him,  and,  by  a  great  effort,  articulated  the  words,  "  I 

have  always  desired  the  happiness  of  France 

I  can  say  with  truth,  in  these  my  last  moments,  that 


106        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF   FRANCE. 

I,  the  first  wife  of  Napoleon,  have  never  willingly 
caused  a  tear  to  be  shed." 

Soon  afterwards,  just  before  mid-day  of  the  29th 
day  of  May,  18 14,  the  Empress  Josephine  expired; 
and  it  may  be  affirmed — let  science  call  her  last 
illness  by  any  name  that  it  may — she  died  of  a 
broken  heart ;  for  her  life,  and  happiness,  which  is 
the  essential  breath  of  life  to  such  an  ardent  and 
loving  nature  as  she  possessed,  were  inextricably, 
though  mysteriously,  involved  in  her  love  for  her 
second  husband,  who,  when  he  married  her,  when  he 
first  linked  her  passionate  though  faithful  nature  to 
his  own,  had  nothing,  as  he  himself  said, — nothing 
but  a  torn  cloak,  a  blood-stained  sword,  and  the 
reciprocity  of  love,  to  offer  her. 

The  death  of  the  Empress  Josephine  caused  pro- 
found sorrow  in  France,  and  especially  in  Paris,  the 
very  heart  of  France  .  .  .  The  road  from  the  capital  to 
the  neighbourhood  of  Malmaison  was  crowded  by  all 
sorts  and  conditions  of  people,  who  seemed  to  take  a 
melancholy  pleasure  in  making  a  pilgrimage  thither. 
More  than  twenty  thousand  men  and  women  of  all 
classes  flocked  to  the  neighbourhood  consecrated  by 
the  residence  there  of  the  Empress,  who,  in  the  midst 
of  her  own  deep  sorrow  had,  as  she  herself  in  her  last 
moments  said,    "  never  voluntarily  caused  a  human 


JOSEPHINE,    HORTENSE,    AND    CAROLINE.    107 

being  to  shed  a  tear."  Tears  enough,  however,  were 
dropped  at  the  sight  of  her  lying  calm  and  beautiful 
in  death,  though  her  kind  eyes  could  no  longer  shine 
on  those  who  wept,  nor  her  once  smiling  lips  speak 
words  of  comfort,  as  had  been  their  wont,  to  the 
afflicted. 

The  poor,  who  had  long  gratefully  regarded  her  as 
their  benefactress,  claimed  a  large  place  in  the  cor- 
tege which  mournfully  followed  "Josephine  the  Good" 
to  the  parish  church  of  Rueil,  where  she  sleeps  her 
last  sleep.  Queen  Hortense  was  agonised  by  grief; 
for  a  long  time  she  remained  absorbed  in  prayer  in 
one  of  the  chapels  of  the  Church  of  Rueil,  but  when 
she  awoke,  as  it  were,  to  the  dread  reality  that  the 
mortal  remains  of  her  mother  were  about  to  be 
lowered  into  the  grave,  she  flung  herself  down  upon 
the  spot  like  one  distracted,  and  it  was  with  difficulty 
that  she  was  at  length  removed  from  it. 

There,  where  such  passionate  tears  of  sorrow  were 
shed,  a  white  marble  monument  has  since  been 
erected — a  monument  of  filial  love  and  piety  (repre- 
senting Josephine,  clad  in  Imperial  robes,  kneeling  as 
though  praying  for  France) — and  inscribed  "  From 
Eugene  and  Hortense  to  Josephine." 

Henceforth  the  best  love  of  Hortense  was  given  to 
her  own  surviving  sons,  of  whom  one,  Louis  Napoleon 


108        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF   FRANCE. 

(the  other  having  perished  in  an  Italian  revolutionary 
movement)  eventually  alone  remained  to  her. 

When  the  first  Emperor  Napoleon  escaped  from 
Elba,  "  knocked,"  as  he  himself  said,  "  at  the  gates  of 
Grenoble  with  his  snuff-box,"  and  found  all  France 
gladly  prepared  to  welcome  him — or,  in  the  more 
figurative  language  of  the  time,  the  Imperial  Eagle 
flying  from  tower  to  tower,  from  steeple  to  steeple, 
and  resting  at  last  with  folded  wings  on  the  historic 
heights  of  Notre  Dame — his  step-daughter  was  ready 
to  welcome  him  in  Paris  at  the  Tuileries.  But  their 
meeting  was  mournful,  for  the  one  object  of  their 
mutual  love,  Josephine,  was  dead  ;  and  when  Napo- 
leon, during  the  "  Hundred  Days  "  which  followed, 
and  before  his  own  final  banishment  from  France  to 
St.  Helena,  after  the  battle  of  Waterloo,  revisited 
Malmaison — the  scene  of  his  domestic  happiness  in 
brighter  days,  and  the  still  more  recent  scene  of 
Josephine's  death  for  love  of  him — he  exclaimed, 
"Ah  !  she  would  never  have  deserted  me,  as  the 
mother  of  my  child  has  done  !  " 

For  the  Empress  Marie  Louise  was  not  in  France 
to  hail  his  appearance  in  that  land  to  which  he  had 
given  glory ;  she  was  not  there  to  cheer  him  by  words 
of  hope — woman's  most  heavenly  utterance  to  the 
man  beloved — nor  to  manifest  to  him  the  growth  of 


JOSEPHINE,    HORTENSE,    AND    CAROLINE.    109 

life  from  his  life  in  the  person  of  their  young  son. 
Already  was  the  proud  head  of  "  the  Conqueror  " 
bowed  with  anxiety  and  sorrow ;  in  heart  depressed 
he  went  forth  to  the  battle  of  Waterloo,  after  the 
"  Hundred  Days  "  in  France  were  over  ;  and  when  he 
momentarily  returned,  defeated,  the  last  hours  of  his 
stay  in  France  ere  going  into  new  and  more  terrible 
exile  at  St.  Helena,  were  spent  at  Malmaison,  the 
scene  of  Josephine's  last  days  and  death.  Here,  he 
wandered  about  disconsolate ;  and  this  not  so  much, 
as  it  seemed,  for  the  loss  of  his  glory  but  rather  for 
the  loss  of  the  love — the  love  of  the  one  woman  who, 
when  he  was  a  mere  soldier  of  fortune,  had  gladly 
"  condescended,"  as  her  proud  relatives  deemed,  to  be- 
come his  wife ;  and  who,  though  he  had  put  her  away 
from  him  because  of  ambitious  motives,  had  died 
because  she  could  not  survive  his  misfortunes — un- 
shared by  her. 

Her  daughter  Hortense,  and  her  then  two  still  sur- 
viving sons,  were  with  him  at  Malmaison  to  the  last 
moment  ere  his  departure  into  renewed  and  fatal 
exile.  By  the  lips  of  Josephine's  daughter,  words  of 
comfort  were  spoken  to  him  ;  by  her  hand,  help  in 
case  of  need  (help  taking  the  form  of  a  splendid  dia- 
mond necklace  enclosed  in  a  belt  to  be  invisibly  worn 
by  him)  was   provided,   and    the    youngest   son    of 


no        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN    OF   FRANCE. 

Hortense,  Louis  Napoleon, — favourite  grandson  of 
Josephine, — clung  about  his  knees,  and  seemed  to 
regard  him  with  almost  superstitious  reverence. 

After  she  had  wept  her  last  farewell  to  her  Imperial 
step-father,  dreary  years  ensued  for  Hortense.     Sepa- 
rated   from    her    husband,   banished    from    France, 
shocked,  as  time  went  on,  at  the  intelligence  of  her 
step-father's  death  at  St.  Helena,  and  resident  chiefly 
in  the  chill  region  of  Arenenberg,  she  devoted  herself 
to  the  education  of  her  two  sons.     Of  these,  as  here 
before  said,  the  elder  fell  during  an  Italian  insurrec- 
tionary movement  in  1830  at  Forli  ;  after  which  event 
she  obtained  an  English  passport,  and,  accompanied 
by  her  then  sole  surviving  son,  Louis  Napoleon  (unre- 
cognisable in  early  manhood  as  the  young  Imperial 
child  long  banished  from  France),  ventured  to  Paris, 
and,  once  having  arrived  there  under  various  disguises, 
made  the  fact  of  her  presence  known  to  King  Louis 
Philippe.       She  besought  an  audience  of  him  in  refer- 
ence to  some  property  to  which  she  had   a  claim. 
The  audience  was  granted,  but  nothing  can  here  be 
said  with  certainty  as  to  the  restitution   of  Imperial 
property  on  the  part  of  the  Orleanist   king.     Cross- 
ing over  to  England,  the   ex-Queen    Hortense  was 
most    cordially    and    courteously    received     in    this 
land,  for  which,  as  here  narrated  in  a  previous  page, 


JOSEPHINE,    HORTENSE,    AND    CAROLINE,    in 

her  mother,  the  Empress  Josephine,  had  expressed  a 
strong  predilection. 

Three  months  Queen  Hortense  and  her  sole  sur- 
viving son,  Louis  Napoleon,  remained  in  England, 
and  it  was  then  that  the  Prince,  destined  at  a  later 
date  to  become  Emperor  of  the  French  under 
the  title  of  Napoleon  III.,  first  learnt  to  appreciate 
English  institutions — social  and  political.  Even 
at  that  date,  the  Napoleonic  Prince  believed,  so 
some  affirm  who  remember  his  conversation  of  the 
time,  that  he  was  born  under  a  peculiar  star,  and 
predestined  to  extraordinary  circumstances ;  but  in 
this  belief  it  was  difficult  for  even  his  accomplished 
and  devoted  mother,  Hortense,  to  coincide,  when, 
after  having  passed  a  few  years  of  comparative  tran- 
quillity at  Arenenberg,  the  news  reached  her  there  of 
her  son's  arrest  at  Strasbourg  (October  30,  1836)  on 
the  charge  of  political  conspiracy  against  the  French 
Government.  Queen  Hortense  again  left  her  solitary 
home  at  Arenenberg,  and  it  is  most  probable  that 
during  her  absence  from  it  she,  ever  eager  to  prostrate 
herself  at  her  mother's  tomb  whenever  some  rare 
occasion  allowed  her  to  do  so,  became  acquainted 
with  the  singular  manner  in  which  the  final  clause  of 
Cagliostro's  prediction  had  become  fulfilled  ;  for  the 
Chateau  of  Malmaison  was  by  this  time  dismantled, 


112        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF  FRANCE. 

its  once  beautiful  grounds  and  parterres  were  fur- 
rowed by  the  plough  ;  and — strange,  though  surely- 
enough — it  was  discovered  that  this,  the  last  resi- 
dence of  the  Empress  Josephine,  the  place  where  she 
died,  was  built  upon  what  had  formerly  been  a  refuse- 
heap — in  fact  a  dunghill — and  hence  was  derived  the 
strange  name  given  long  since  to  the  elegant  Chateau 
of  Malmaison.  Cagliostro's  prophecy,  "Thou  shalt 
be  more  than  Queen,  but  thou  shalt  die  on  a  dung- 
hill," had  literally  therefore  been  fulfilled  (though  the 
latter  and  revolting  clause,  unconsciously)  by  the 
Empress  Josephine. 

But,  to  return  to  her  daughter  Hortense  ;  she  again 
addressed  a  letter  in  behalf  of  her  son,  the  Stras- 
bourg political  offender,  to  Louis  Philippe,  dating 
that  letter  from  Viry,  where  the  Imperialist  Duchesse 
de  Ragusa,  whose  guest  she  was  at  the  time,  had  a 
country-house.  But  in  vain  was  this  appeal  made  by 
Queen  Hortense,  for  the  only  answer  to  it  was  a  brief 
note  from  one  of  his  Orleanist  Majesty's  Ministers, 
advising  her  to  induce  her  son  at  once  to  take  up  his 
abode  in  the  United  States  of  America  for  the  term 
of  ten  years. 

To  part  her  from  her  son  was  death  to  Queen 
Hortense  ;  for  she, — poetess,  musician  ;  a  most  accom- 
plished,  and    still    personally   attractive   woman ;    a 


JOSEPHINE,    HORTENSE,    AND    CAROLINE.   113 

woman  who  had  caused  many  brave  men  to  acknow- 
ledge only  too  sincerely  the  potent  magic  of  her 
charms,  was  devotedly  attached  to  this  one  son  now 
alone  remaining  to  her,  on  whose  education,  when  a 
child,  she  had  bestowed  the  most  sedulous  care,  and 
who,  as  a  man,  had  grown  to  be  the  best-loved  com- 
panion and  consoler  of  her  stricken  life. 

But  she  was  compelled  to  submit,  and  when  she 
returned  to  her  lonely  home  at  Arenenberg  her  health 
was  visibly  suffering  from  the  pain  of  his  absence. 

At  last,  on  the  3rd  day  of  April,  1837,  she  wrote 
to  him  that  she  believed  her  days  were  numbered, 
and  that  she  could  not  die  peacefully  save  in  his 
presence. 

Immediately  upon  receipt  of  this  sad  letter,  Prince 
Louis  Napoleon,  who,  it  was  said,  had  four  months 
previously  reached  New  York,  determined  to  risk 
every  danger  and  rejoin  his  mother  in  Switzerland  ; 
but  to  do  so  he  necessarily  incurred  great  danger,  not 
only  in  escaping  from  the  land  of  his  banishment  but 
in  traversing  Europe ;  for  Italy,  France,  and  Austria, 
were  all  equally  closed  to  him.  To  England,  there- 
fore, he  came  at  first ;  and,  after  passing  through 
Holland,  then  up  the  Rhine  to  Carlsruhe,  he  at  length 
reached  his  mother's  abode  beyond  the  frontiers  of 
the  canton  in  which  it  was  situated.     He  was  there 


U4        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN    OF    FRANCE. 

at  last,  but  it  was  almost  too  late.  In  April  she  had 
written  to  him,  but  it  was  not  until  the  month  of 
October  that  he  once  more  clasped  her  to  his  heart. 
It  seemed  as  though  she  could  not  die  until  he  came ; 
but  once  having  heard  his  voice,  and  felt  herself  en- 
circled by  his  arms,  Queen  Hortense  breathed  her 
last  sigh,  at  five  o'clock  in  the  morning,  just  as  the 
dawn  of  a  new  day  began  to  illumine  the  peaks  and 
pinnacles  of  the  snowy  mountains  near  the  abode  of 
her  exile. 

Her  fifty-four  years  of  life  were,  each  of  them,  more 
or  less  eventful ;  but  the  great  misfortune  of  that  life 
was  her  having  been  early  wedded  to  a  man  who,  un- 
loved by  her,  had — notwithstanding  his  many  noble  and 
excellent  qualities — never  sought  sufficiently  to  soothe 
the  acknowledged  anguish  which  her  compulsory 
union  with  him  caused  her.  Yet,  in  her  last  will,  she 
did  noble  justice  to  him,  and  desired  that  he  might 
know  how  great  was  her  regret  that  she  had  never 
been  able  to  make  him  happy.  "  As  for  my  son," 
she  added  in  this  testamentary  document,  "  I  have 
no  political  counsel  to  give  him,  for  I  know  that  he 
knows  his  position,  and  all  the  duties  imposed  upon 
him  by  the  name  he  bears." 

Queen  Hortense  desired  to  repose  in  death  by  the 
side  of  her  mother,  and  when  her  son  became  a  cap- 


JOSEPHINE,    HORTENSE,    AND    CAROLINE.   115 

tive  at  Ham,  he  consecrated  some  of  the  days  of  his 
imprisonment  there  by  designing  a  monument  to  the 
memory  of  the  one  parent  whose  devotion  to  him  was 
a  cherished  remembrance  during  the  remainder  of  his 
eventful  and  strangely-chequered  life — that  life  so 
recently  ended  in  the  land  of  his  last  exile, — the 
land  beloved  both  by  Josephine  and  Hortense. 

More  sad  even  than  the  latter  days  of  these  two 
illustrious  women,  were  the  closing  years  of  their 
kinswoman,  Caroline  Bonaparte,  the  adored  wife  and 
afterwards  the  inconsolable  widow  of  Joachim  Murat, 
Bonapartist  King  of  Naples,  who,  when  condemned 
to  die  by  the  Bourbon  monarch  whose  throne  he 
had  mounted,  held  her  portrait  to  his  breast  until 
that  fatal  moment  when  the  death-shot  entered  his 
heart. 

Taken  prisoner,  and  conveyed  to  Trieste  when 
King  Ferdinand  was  restored  to  Naples,  Caroline 
Bonaparte  was  eventually  compelled  to  take  up  her 
abode  in  the  Castle  of  Hairnbourg,  near  Vienna ;  and 
it  was  there  that  the  awful  intelligence  of  her  husband's 
death  reached  her,  in  the  month  of  October,  18 15. 
Although  originally  richly  endowed  by  her  brother, 
Napoleon  I.,  when,  as  the  happy  wife  of  her  brave  and 
beloved  Murat,  she  was  proclaimed  Queen  of  Naples, 
the  whole,  or  nearly  the  whole,  of  her  fortune  was 


Ii6        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF   FRANCE. 

confiscated  by  Ferdinand  after  his  restoration  to  the 
throne. 

In  widowhood  and  comparative  poverty,  she  resided 
for  many  dreary  years  at  Trieste,  where,  and  else- 
where, she  consecrated  her  remarkable  talents  to  the 
education  of  her  four  children — the  living  representa- 
tives of  the  husband  she  had  devotedly  loved,  and 
never  ceased  to  mourn.  At  last,  in  the  month  of 
June,  1838,  a  pension  was  voted  to  her  by  the  French 
parliament,  the  Chambers  having  been  memorialised 
in  her  behalf ;  but  this  release  from  poverty  came  too 
late,  for  sorrow  and  anxiety  had  done  their  murderous 
work  ;  cancer  in  the  stomach,  the  same  disease  which 
•had  been  fatal  to  her  illustrious  and  exiled  brother 
at  St.  Helena,  had  manifested  itself;  and  this  brave 
and  beautiful  woman,  who,  in  her  early  youth,  was 
said  by  Talleyrand  to  have  the  head  of  a  diplomatist 
on  the  shoulders  of  a  goddess,  died  at  Florence  the 
same  year  in  which  France  had  tardily  granted  her 
a  pension. 

After  her  husband's  death  she  was  generally  known 
in  Italy  by  the  name  of  the  Countess  Lipona,  the 
Italian  name  of  Naples  (Napoli)  reversed. 

The  name  of  Murat  was  familiar  as  a  household 
word  under  the  "  Second  Empire  "  in  France  ;  and  as 
the  two  daughters  of  Caroline  Bonaparte,  who  once 


JOSEPHINE,    HORTENSE,    AND    CAROLINE.    117 

as  a  happy  wife  bore  that  name,  were  married,  one  to 
the  Marquis  Pepoli  and  the  other  to  Count  Rasponi, 
it  is  to  be  hoped  that  the  noble  type  of  womanhood 
personified  in  the  gifted  sister  of  Napoleon  I.  may  not 
cease  to  exist  in  the  land  of  poetry,  love,  and  song, 
not  less  than  of  heroic  aspirations. 


THE 

DUCHESSE     D'ANGOULfiME 


AND  THE 


DUCHESSE   DE   BERRI, 

(AUNT  AND  MOTHER  OF  THE  COMTE  DE  CHAMBORD,  CALLED 
BY  LEGITIMISTS  "HENRI  V.  OF  FRANCE.") 


S.A.R.     MADAME    DUCHESSE    DE    I'.KRRI. 


THE  DUCHESSE  DANGOU- 
LEME  AND  THE  DUCHESSE 
DE  BERRI. 

HILD  !  thou  art  my  daughter ! 
As  such  thou  art  altogether 
mine.  Thou  dost  belong  to 
me,  and  not  to  the  nation !  " 

Such  were  the  words  with 
which  Queen  Marie  Antoinette 
greeted  her  first-born  babe, 
after  more  than  eight  years 
of  childless  marriage.  It  was  winter-time 
at  Versailles  ;  the  old  year  1778  was  fast 
dying  out,  but  the  dawn  of  a  new  life  had 
been  anxiously  awaited  within  the  palace 
walls,  and  now  their  Majesties  of  France  were  parents, 
though  not  yet  of  a  Dauphin,  as  all  loyal  French 
subjects  had  ardently  hoped  and  prayed  would  have 
been  the  case.  The  Queen  knew  that  the  sex  of  her 
child  was  a  disappointment  to  the  nation ;  and  it  was, 


122        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF  FRANCE. 

therefore,  with  an  intense,  almost  prophetic  yearning 
of  commiseration,  as  of  love,  that  she  first  gazed 
upon  her  infant  daughter,  and  again  exclaimed,  "  Poor 
woman-child !  Thou  art  especially  my  child.  My 
son  would  have  belonged  to  the  State,  but  it  will  be 
thy  lot  to  share  my  pleasures,  and  mine  to  soothe  thy 
sorrows." 

The  infant  Princess  was  styled,  from  the  moment 
that  her  cry  was  first  heard  in  this  world,  Madame 
Royale,  and  in  due  time  she  received  the  baptismal 
names  of  Maria  Theresa,  after  her  maternal  grand- 
mother the  Empress  of  Austria  and  Queen  of 
Hungary. 

By  the  Salic  law  of  France,  excluding  women  in 
their  own  right  from  the  throne,  it  was  impossible 
that  this  first-born  child  of  Louis  XVI.  and  Marie 
Antoinette  could  ever  become  Queen,  save  as  Queen- 
Consort,  of  the  country  over  which  her  ancestors  had 
reigned  for  nearly  a  thousand  years  :  but  in  the  uni- 
versal disappointment  as  to  her  sex,  the  King's 
younger  brother,  the  Comte  d'Artois,*  could  not  be 
expected  to  share,  as,  in  default  of  a  dauphin,  his  own 
son,  the  Duke  d'Angouleme,  then  about  three  years 
of  age,  would  some  day  be  heir  to  the  Crown. 

The  young  Prince  just  named,  was  much  associated 

*  Afterwards  Charles  X. 


DUCHESSES  UANGOULEME  AND  DE  BERRL     123 

with  his  cousin,  the  little  Madame  Royale,  from  her 
earliest  days ;  bright  to  them  both  was  their  child- 
hood, and  vivid  in  after  years  were  their  mutual 
memories  of  the  sunny  gardens  of  the  little  Trianon, 
and  of  scenes  of  pageantry  at  Versailles,  at  which 
they  were,  as  children,  accustomed  to  be  present. 
One  scene  especially  they  were  neither  of  them  likely 
to  forget — that  in  which  two  children,  a  boy  and  a  girl, 
stood  side  by  side  during  some  ceremonial  in  which, 
though  mainly  then  unconscious  of  its  full  purport, 
they  felt  they  both  were  taking  a  solemn  part.  The 
girl  had  a  veil  on  her  head,  and  in  its  corners  she 
nervously  twined  her  fingers,  whilst  longing,  perhaps, 
to  escape  to  the  birds  and  flowers  in  which  she 
delighted  ;  and  the  boy  wore  epaulettes  and  a 
diamond -hilted  sword,  with  which  sword  he  was 
thinking,  perhaps,  some  day  to  fight  for  France. 
The  girl  was  Madame  Royale,  the  boy  was  the  Due 
d'Angouleme,  and  the  scene  here  glanced  at  in  which 
they  stood  side  by  side  was  that  of  their  betrothal. 

But  ere  they  could  either  of  them  realise  what  was 
meant  by  this  fact  of  their  betrothal,  they  were  sepa- 
rated. In  the  summer  of  1789,  when  the  little 
Trianon  was  looking  brightest,  and  the  leaves  were 
thickest  on  the  old  forest  trees  of  Versailles,  Madame 
Royale  mourned  the  loss  of  her  first  playmate  ;  for 


124        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF  FRANCE. 

the  coming  Revolution  had  already  declared  itself, 
and  the  Comte  d'Artois,  with  his  two  sons,  the  Dues 
d'  Angouleme  and  de  Berri,  were  among  the  first  to 
fly  from  before  the  threatening  storm — to  fly,  not  from 
motives  of  fear,  but  in  the  hope  of  finding  beyond 
the  frontiers  such  help  as  might  yet  sustain  the  tot- 
tering throne  of  France. 

The  Due  d'Angouleme  had  gone,  and  a  sea  of 
blood  would  surge  up  between  himself  and  the  young 
Princess  to  whom  he  was  affianced  before  they  could 
meet  again.  He  had  looked  for  the  last  time  upoji  the 
radiant  face  of  his  aunt,  the  Queen  of  France,  and 
for  the  last  time  had  listened  to  the  pious  counsels  of 
the  King.  The  Due  d'Angouleme  had  gone,  and 
with  him  the  brightness  of  childhood  suddenly 
vanished  from  Madame  Royale. 

Two  sons  and  another  daughter  had  been  born  to 
Louis  XVI.  and  Marie  Antoinette  since  Madame 
Royale  first  saw  the  light,  but  she  and  one  (the 
younger)  brother,  commonly  called  the  Dauphin, 
alone  survived  to  share  the  sorrows  that  were  in  store 
for  their  parents  ;  and  it  was  in  the  month  of  October, 
1789,  when  the  palace  of  Versailles  was  invaded  by 
the  furiously  discontented  mob  from  revolutionary 
Paris,  that  the  terrific  nature  of  these  sorrows  was  first 
revealed  to  this  brother  and  sister.     They  were  both 


DUCHESSES  DANGOULEME  AND  DE  BERRI.     125 


near  their  mother  when,  standing  in  the  central  bal- 
cony of  the  palace,  she  dauntlessly,  and  in  immediate 
danger  of  death,  confronted  the  menacing  insurgents 
who  crowded  in  the  great  marble  court  just  below  her. 
They  were  seated  in  the  same  carriage  with  the  King 
and  Queen,  when,  a  few  hours  later  on  that  day,  their 
majesties  were  compelled  by  the  savage  mob  to  quit 
Versailles,  in  order  to  take  up  their  abode  in  Paris. 
During  the  frightful  journey  thither  they  beheld  the 
bleeding  heads  of  the  recently-murdered  Life  Guards 
carried,  in  derision  of  all  loyalty,  on  pikes,  by  wretches 
who,  mad  with  fierce,  unholy  triumph,  danced  on  the 
way  like  madmen,  covered  with  mud. 

They  heard  the  coarse  threats  of  the  poissardes, 
when  those  vile  and  unsexed  monsters  jeered  at  the 
King  and  Queen  through  the  windows  of  the  coach 
in  which  they  sat  exposed  to  view.  Madame  Royale 
and  her  brother  saw  and  heard  all  this,  and  much  more 
that  appertained  to  this  first  stage  of  their  parents' 
martyrdom,  and  when  in  after  life,  recalling  the  cir- 
cumstances of  that  horrible  journey,  the  "woman- 
child,"  who  when  born  the  Queen  had  hailed  as  espe- 
cially her  child,  remembered  also  the  pious  resigna- 
tion of  her  father  and  the  dignified  calm  of  her 
mother,  for  from  the  appalling  day  of  their  forced 
departure  from  Versailles,  the  King  and  Queen  were 


126        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF  FRANCE. 

worshipped    as    beings    above    mortality    by    their 
daughter. 

The  imagination  of  a  young  girl,  reared  as  this 
Princess  had  been,  is  naturally  exalted.  Hitherto  she 
had  beheld  her  mother  bright  of  countenance,  brilliant 
in  costume,  and  fascinatingly  animated  in  manner  ; 
but  now  she  regarded  her  as  a  saintly  heroine,  and  as 
such  she  never  afterwards  ceased  to  reverence  her. 
For  at  the  Tuileries,  the  henceforth  compelled  abode 
of  their  Majesties — a  prison  rather  than  a  palace  to 
them — she  became  the  constant  companion  of  her 
mother,  whose  tears,  wrung  from  her  by  daily  and 
unmerited  insults,  were  often  only  checked  by  the 
fear  of  imparting  premature  sadness  to  that  first- 
born child,  who  then  began  to  worship  her.  All  the 
sunshine  of  this  young  Princess's  life  was  left  behind 
her  at  Versailles,  and  when  the  day  came  that  she 
partook  of  her  first  communion,  her  father  spoke  to 
her  in  solemn  words  of  the  true  meaning  of  the  Cross 
to  her  faith,  in  which  he  conjured  her  to  cling  fast — 
words  never  to  be  forgotten,  and  the  less  so  because 
Madame  Royale  was  already  aware  that  the  religion 
of  her  ancestors  was  at  that  time  no  longer  gene- 
rally reverenced  in  France.  For  when  returning  to 
Paris  with  her  parents  from  Varennes,  when  their 
attempted  flight  beyond  the  frontiers  was  frustrated 


DUCHESSES  DANGOULEME  AND  DE  BERRI.     127 

(June  21 — 25,  1 791),  a  village  cure,  who  had  the  loyal 
rashness  to  approach  the  King's  coach,  so  as  to  gain 
the  honour  of  speaking  a  word  with  his  Majesty, 
was  knocked  down  by  the  brutal  crowd  assembled 
by  the  road-side  for  the  purpose  of  insulting  the  re- 
captured royal  family,  and  would  have  been  murdered 
had  not  one  of  the  popular  commissioners  in  charge* 
of  the  King  cried  out,  "  Tigers !  have  you  ceased  to 
be  Frenchmen  ?  From  a  nation  of  brave  men  are 
you  changed  to  a  horde  of  murderers  ?  " 

It  was  during  the  preceding  night  of  terrible 
suspense  at  Varennes  that  the  Queen's  hair  turned 
white,  and  her  daughter  there  shared,  as  much  as  her 
still  tender  age  permitted,  all  the  anguish  of  disap- 
pointment, the  scorn  of  treachery,  and  the  royal  sense 
of  right  against  the  fast-increasing  might  of  an 
insolent  populace,  which  her  Majesty  displayed  when 
(at  the  house  of  M.  Sausse,  a  grocer,  and  the  Mayor  of 
the  Commune,  whither  the  illustrious  fugitives  had, 
after  betrayal  and  recognition,  been  conducted)  she 
exclaimed  to  the  jeering  bystanders,  "  Frenchmen 
and  Frenchwomen,  since  you  recognise  my  husband 
and  your  King,  speak,  if  you  speak  at  all,  with  the 
respect  that  you  owe  to  him." 

From  the  date  of  her  parents'  re-capture  at  Va- 
rennes, and  their  being  conducted  as  State  prisoners 


128        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN    OF  FRANCE. 

back  again  to  the  Tuileries,  Madame  Royale  was 
inseparably  involved  in  all  the  well-known  circum- 
stances which  heralded  the  fast-coming  "  Reign  of 
Terror."  She  loved  her  father  devotedly ;  and 
never,  perhaps,  as  yet  had  she  venerated  him  more 
than  when  she  beheld  him  wearing  the  boiuiet 
rouge,  which  a  ruffian  had  placed  on  his  head 
upon  the  occasion  of  the  maddened  multitude  first 
breaking  into  the  Tuileries  for  the  purpose  of  ex- 
torting concessions  from  the  King  by  threats  and 
insults,  for  she  knew  that  upon  that  day  he  had  dis- 
played a  sublime  courage  of  which  the  people 
had  hitherto  not  thought  him  capable,  and  that 
sooner  than  flinch  before  these  most  degraded  of  his 
subjects  he  had,  in  answer  to  the  taunting  request 
of  one  of  them,  who  carried  a  bottle  of  wine  with  a 
glass  attached  to  it,  drank  the  very  dregs  of  a 
draught  which  he  had  reason  to  suppose  was  poi- 
soned. 

By  the  time  that  the  final  storming  of  the  Tuileries 
came,  Marie  Antoinette  had  wept  so  much  that  her 
eyes,  rarely  visited  by  sleep,  were  no  longer  the 
brilliant  orbs  which  had  shone  a  few  years  before  on 
the  courtly  circle  at  Versailles  ;  but  still  they  lighted 
up  with  magnanimous  determination  when  upon  that 
memorable  day  (August  10,  1792)  she  declared  that, 


DUCHESSES  DANGOULEME  AND  DE  BERRI.     129 

then,  finding  outrage  and  indignity  around  her  on  every 
side,  she  would  rather  be  nailed  to  the  palace  walls 
than  fly.  And  yet,  as  her  daughter,  Madame  Royale, 
never  afterwards  forgot,  the  Queen  was  finally  com- 
pelled to  yield  to  her  love  and  fear,  as  wife  and  mother 
— fear,  not  for  herself,  but  for  the  menaced  safety  of  her 
husband  and  children.  With  difficulty,  and  through 
the  midst  of  danger,  the  King  and  Queen  were  con- 
veyed to  "  the  bosom  of  the  National  Assembly,"  and 
there  for  fifteen  long  hours  of  stifling  heat,  stormy 
discussion,  and  agonised  suspense,  the  young  Princess 
— whose  joys  her  mother  had  fondly  hoped  to  share, 
and  whose  pains  to  alleviate — was  seated  by  that 
same  mother  (the  Dauphin  having  fallen  asleep  on 
the  knees  of  the  latter),  whilst  crimes  and  massacre 
sufficient  to  rise  up  against  France  for  ages,  were  com- 
mitted at  the  Tuileries.  No ;  the  joy  of  Marie 
Antoinette  at  the  birth  of  the  daughter  who  now 
anxiously  watched  her,  her  own  eyes  streaming  with 
tears,  had  not  been  prophetic  ;  or  rather  the  predic- 
tion was  reversed,  for  it  was  the  fate  of  the  young 
Madame  Royale  to  soothe  her  mother's  sorrows, 
because  to  that  mother  no  pleasure  any  longer  re- 
mained for  her  daughter  to  share. 

Only  a  prison — the  gloomy  prison  of  the  Temple, 
to  which,  on  the  13th  day  of  August,  1792  (the  third 


130        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF  FRANCE. 

day  after  the  storming  of  the  Tuileries),  the  dethroned 
King  and  Queen,  with  their  children,  also  the  King's 
sister  Elizabeth,  and  a  few  immediate  followers,  were 
conveyed.  Madame  Royale  thus,  when  just  on  the 
threshold  of  womanhood,  passed  from  a  palace  into  a 
prison,  and  within  this  dreary  abode  she  soon  beheld 
her  parents  forced  to  part  with  the  few  faithful 
adherents  who  had  hitherto  been  permitted  to  remain 
near  them,  until  at  last  she  found  herself  left  alone 
there  with  her  father,  her  mother,  her  brother  and  her 
aunt — the  saintly  aunt  who  was  destined  so  soon  to 
die  the  death  of  a  virgin  martyr  on  the  scaffold,  the 
Princess  (or,  as  she  was  commonly  called  Madame) 
Elizabeth. 

But  even  this  state  of  things  was  not  long  to  last  ; 
for,  first,  the  King  and  Queen  were  placed  in  separate 
compartments  of  the  tower  of  the  Temple,  and  only 
permitted  to  meet  each  other,  or  to  greet  their  chil- 
dren in  presence  of  brutal  gaolers  who,  upon  these 
few  and  far  between  stated  occasions,  took  every 
means  of  openly  insulting  them.  Their  privations 
grew  more  and  more  severe.  The  Queen,  with  her 
children  and  Madame  Elizabeth,  occupied  the  storey 
above  that  in  which  the  King  was  imprisoned.  Days, 
weeks,  months  passed,  and  there  came  that  Sunday 
(the  20th  of  January)  when  the  King,  being  sentenced 


DUCHESSES  HANGOULEME  AND  DE  BERRL     131 

to  die  on  the  morrow,  a  last  interview  with  his  family 
was  to  be  allowed  to  him. 

The  speechless  agony  of  that  meeting  was  only 
broken  by  tears  and  sobs.  It  was  about  eight 
o'clock  in  the  evening  when  Louis  XVI.  was  thus 
allowed  to  bid  a  last  farewell  to  all  whom  he  loved 
on  earth.  At  last  he  essayed  to  speak  to  these 
dear  ones,  from  whom  he  was  about  to  be  parted  for 
ever  in  this  world.  He  sought  to  console  them.  His 
faithful  servant,  Cl^ry,  was  at  hand,  having  with 
difficulty  gained  permission  to  remain  with  his  royal 
master  to  the  last ;  and  he  it^  is  who  tells  us  that 
when  at  length  the  King  sat  down,  as  though  over- 
come by  his  own  emotion  for  the  moment,  the  Queen 
was  on  his  left  hand,  Madame  Elizabeth  on  his  right, 
the  little  Dauphin  stood  between  his  legs,  and  Madame 
Royale  stood  opposite  him.  They  all  continually 
embraced  the  King,  but  his  words  during  that  terrible 
hour  were  never  forgotten  by  his  daughter,  who  was 
destined  to  survive  him  the  longest,  and  who  thus, 
with  a  reticence  almost  painful  to  read,  records  the 
substance  of  them. 

"  He  related  the  circumstances  of  his  trial  to  the 
Queen,  whilst  excusing  [the  wicked  men  who  con- 
demned   him  to  death He    gave  pious 

counsel  to   his  son,  and   above   all   things   enjoined 


132        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN  OF  FRANCE. 

him  to  pardon  those  who  were  causing  his  death  ; 
he  gave  his  benediction  to  him  and  also  to  me,  his 
daughter." 

And  that  daughter  was  so  utterly  overcome  when 
receiving  this  farewell  blessing,  that  she  fainted  like 
one  dead  at  the  feet  of  her  father.  In  that  uncon- 
scious condition  she  was  carried  forth  from  his 
presence ;  but  about  six  o'clock  on  the  following 
morning  she  was  aroused  to  all  the  anguish  of  acute 
apprehension,  for  somebody  entered  the  chamber,  or 
rather  the  cell,  which  she  occupied,  in  search  of  a 
Mass-book  for  the  King's  use.  For  a  short  time  she 
hoped  that  the  Queen,  with  herself  and  brother,  were 
about  again  to  be  summoned  to  the  presence  of  her 
father.  It  seemed  to  her  impossible  that  the  deadly 
crime  of  regicide  would  be  permitted  in  France. 
Surely  it  was  all  some  hideous  dream  !  But  too  soon, 
alas !  the  frantic  shouts  of  a  maddened  populace, 
piercing  even  the  heavy  prison  walls,  and  then  the 
noise  of  beating  drums,  smote  upon  the  heart  of 
Madame  Royale,  with  the  appalling  conviction  that 
the  deed  which  suddenly  made  her  fatherless  was 
consummated.  Yes  ;  she  felt  herself  to  be  fatherless, 
but  even  at  that  dread  moment — a  moment  which 
influenced  her  whole  future  life — she  did  not  believe 
France,  even  though  already  Red  Republican  France, 


DUCHESSES  UANGOULEME  AND  DE  BERRI.     133 

to  beKingless.  For  her  brother  still  lived !  He, though 
but  a  poor  little  captive  child — a  child  already  ailing 
sadly  for  want  of  fresh  air  and  free  exercise,  and  for 
lack  of  all  the  pleasant  things  to  which  he  had  been 
accustomed,  still  lived,  though  sleeping  at  that  moment 
unconsciously  by  his  newly  widowed  mother's  side. 
His  father's  blood  was  flowing  upon  the  scaffold  ;  his 
mother's  tears  would  henceforth  flow  before  him  con- 
tinually ;  his  sister  desolate,  watched,  with  wrung  heart 
— and  so  watching,  prayed — prayed,  even  then,  for  her 
father's  murderers.  But,  still,  looking  upon  him,  her 
helpless  and  imprisoned  brother,  she  hailed  him  in  her 
young  stricken  heart  as  King  of  France  ;  for,  true  to 
the  creed  of  loyal  France  in  days  gone  by,  she  believed 
that  "  the  King  can  never  die,"  and  echoed  the  cry  of 
immortal  French  chivalry  under  the  Fleur-de-lys>  "  Le 
Roi  est  mort.  Vive  le  Roi !  "  What,  then,  did  this 
imprisoned  and  fatherless  Princess  think  and  feel 
when,  not  long  afterwards,  she  beheld  this  beloved 
brother  of  hers — this  King  of  France,  albeit  a  King 
most  youthful  and  quite  captive,  torn  from  his  and 
her  mother's  arms,  in  order  to  be  consigned  to  a 
compartment  of  the  Temple  far  removed  from  that 
still  occupied  by  the  Queen  ! 

Marie  Antoinette,  worn  by  grief,    and   attired  in 
deepest   mourning,   implored  the    ruffians  who    had 


134        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF  FRANCE. 

come  to  take  her  son  from  her,  at  once  to  kill  her, 
sooner  than  inflict  this  fresh  cruelty  upon  her,  and 
Madame  Royale  besought  the  wretches  to  desist  in 
their  attempts  to  remove  her  brother ;  but  all  in 
vain.  The  men  thus  addressed  were  infuriated  by 
delay,  and  threatened  at  once  to  kill  the  child  if  he 
were  not  instantly  consigned  to  their  hands. 

The  Queen  still  sought  to  protect  her  son  (he  was 
undressed  and  in  bed  J  from  these  ruffians.  She  stood 
over  his  bed  with  menacing  aspect,  in  the  vain 
attempt  to  defend  him  ;  but,  watching  this  frightful 
scene  of  her  mother's  agony  with  streaming  eyes, 
Madame  Royale  perceived  that  in  truth  her  brother's 
life  would  be  cut  short  by  murder  if  her  mother  did 
not  yield.  Her  aunt,  Elizabeth,  who  was  also 
present,  dreaded  the  same  result;  and  when,  there- 
fore, the  Queen  presently  sank  down  exhausted  by 
the  side  of  her  terrified  boy,  these  two  Princesses 
caught  him  up,  and  proceeded  to  reclothe  and  to 
soothe  him  as  well  as  their  own  agitation  would 
permit. 

The  Queen  then  rose,  for  at  length  the  conviction 
had  flashed  upon  her  that,  to  save  her  son's  life,  she  must 
then  and  there  part  from  him.  She  rose,  and  with  a 
forced  calmness,  more  dreadful  than  any  tears  to  wit- 
ness, she  herself  placed  her  fatherless  boy — nay,  her 


DUCHESSES  DANGOULEME  AND  DE  BERRI.     135 

King,  as  she  also  secretly  regarded  him — in  the  hands 
of  the  men,  imploring  them  at  the  same  time  to  submit 
to  the  Municipal  Council  her  humble  entreaties  some- 
times to  be  allowed  to  see  him.  Then,  with  the  tears 
of  his  widowed  mother  on  his  head,  and  whilst  his 
own  tears  were  still  flowing,  the  Dauphin  (or  rather 
Louis  XVII.,  as  proscribed  royalists  called  him), 
bewildered  with  terror,  and  faint  with  the  struggle, 
was  led  forth  from  his  mother, — never  to  behold  her 
again. 

But,  from  time  to  time,  she  furtively  saw  him  ;  for 
the  Queen  was  occasionally  allowed  to  [breathe  the 
fresh  air  upon  the  battlemented  height  of  her  prison, 
and  there  her  daughter,  Madame  Royale,  with  an 
aching  heart,  sometimes  beheld  her  only  surviving 
parent  wait  and  watch  as  long  as  possible  near  a 
chink  in  the  wall,  which  ever  and  anon,  though  only 
at  rare  and  long  intervals,  gave  her  a  faded  vision  of 
the  child  who  was  at  one  time  radiant  with  beauty 
and  intelligence,  when  playing  by  her  side  amongst 
the  roses  of  Versailles. 

Day  after  day  passed,  and  Madame  Royale  had 
the  agony  of  perceiving  the  deep  gloom  which  had 
taken  possession  of  the  Queen  since  her  widowhood 
intensified  by  separation  from  her  son.  Marie 
Antoinette  was   not  unconscious  of  the   tender  soli- 


156        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF   FRANCE. 


citude  of  her  daughter ;  for  as  no  menial  assistance 
was  at  this  time  allowed  to  the  diminished  group  of 
the  royal  prisoners  of  the  Temple,  that  Princess  herself 
waited  upon  her  with  watchful  care,  and,  with  a  love 
which  in  her  case  stood  in  the]  place  of  experience, 
did  all  that  could  be  done  to  alleviate  the  daily  mise- 
ries and  privations  of  the  position  to  which  they  were 
mutually  exposed.  But  even  this  self-sacrificing 
privilege  was  soon  denied  to  her,  for  before  dawn  on 
the  morning  of  August  2,  1793,  the  dethroned  Queen 
was  removed  from  the  prison  of  the  Temple  to  the 
dungeon  of  the  Conciergerie. 

When  Madame  Royale  heard  the  decree  read  aloud 
that  was  to  sever  her  from  her  mother,  she  implored 
the  Republican  emissaries,  who  had  come  instantly  to 
enforce  it,  to  take  her  also — either  to  a  dungeon  or 
the  scaffold — to  subject  her,  in  short,  to  any  torment 
rather  than  inflict  that  of  this  terrible  separation  upon 
her  ;  but  her  passionate  entreaties  only  met  with  rude 
repulse,  and  it  was  therefore  as  though  spell-bound 
by  some  hideous  dream  that  she  watched  her  mother, 
whilst  the  latter,  with  an  outward  appearance  of 
almost  superhuman  calm,  set  about  the  few  prepara- 
tions for  immediate  departure  as  though  for  a  long 
journey.  With  her  own  hands  the  Queen  packed  up 
some  few  articles  of  necessary  clothing  that  her  new 


DUCHESSES  D'ANGOULEME  AND  DE  BERRI.     137 

jailers,  who  were  looking  on  all  the  time,  consented 
that  she  should  take  with  her  ;  and  at  last,  when  the 
moment  of  her  going  forth  with  them  could  no  longer 
be  deferred,  she  turned  towards  the  two  beloved 
beings  she  was  about  to  leave — her  martyred  hus- 
band's sister,  and  her  own  daughter.  First  she 
embraced  the  Princess  Elizabeth,  who  was  over- 
powered by  an  agony  of  woe  beyond  even  her 
disciplined  powers  of  restraint  to  control  ;  but, 
quickly  regaining  self-command,  she  yielded  her 
place  in  the  arms  of  Marie  Antoinette  to  that 
Queen's  child.  Mute  was  the  agony  of  Madame 
Royale,  but  when  the  Queen  folded  her  for  the  last 
time  to  her  heart  she  said,  "  My  daughter,  my  first- 
born child  !  thou  knowest  in  what  consists  thy  faith  ; 
cling  to  that  faith,  and  be  courageous  ! " 

The  girl  could  scarcely  be  detached  from  her 
mother,  whom  she  embraced  again  and  again  with 
speechless  sorrow,  but  the  Queen  gently  extricated 
herself  from  her,  and  then,  turning  to  the  ruffians 
who  were  waiting  impatiently  to  take  her  away,  she 
exclaimed,  "  My  son  !  my  son  !  May  I  not  bid  him, 
too,  farewell  ? " 

But  this  was  not  to  be,  and  in  another  moment 
the  dethroned  Queen — the  heart-stricken  mother,  was 
led  forth   to  the  dungeon  of  the  Conciergerie,  which 


138        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF  FRANCE. 

awaited  her.  "  Nothing  more,"  she  declared,  "  can 
hurt  me  now." 

Day  after  day,  week  after  week,  month  after  month 
elapsed,  and  Madame  Royale,  still  a  prisoner  in  the 
Temple  with  her  aunt  Elizabeth,  hoped  that  as  no 
tidings  reached  her  of  her  mother,  she  herself  was 
not  altogether  an  orphan.  And  doubtless  this  hope, 
though  delusive  (for  the  Queen  had  perished  on  the 
scaffold),  still  helped  to  sustain  her,  even  after  her 
aunt  was  forcibly  separated  from  her  (May  9,  1794) 
to  die  the  death  of  a  virgin  martyr. 

From  that  time  forth  Madame  Royale  was  a  soli- 
tary prisoner  in  the  Temple.  Alone  !  always  alone  ! 
Sometimes  from  afar  she  could  hear  the  voice  of 
her  brother,  until  that  voice  also  was  silenced  by 
death.  But  even  when  this  once  cherished  voice 
met  her  ear,  it  was  as  though  listened  to  by  her  in 
the  midst  of  some  delirium  of  fever,  for  the  child 
who,  but  a  few  years  before,  had  sparkled  with  life 
and  intelligence  at  Versailles,  was  now  brutalized  and 
degraded  as  far  as  such  a  child  could  be,  in  the 
hands  of  his  jailers,  whose  horrible  task  was,  not  to 
kill  the  boy  by  steel  or  poison,  but  by  every  means 
in  their  power  to  tear  down  and  trample  upon  his 
princely  nature.  From  afar,  his  captive  sister  could 
hear  his  young  voice  raised   in  some  coarse  republi- 


DUCHESSES  HANGOULEME  AND  DE  BERRI.     139 

can  song,  and  by  the  unsteady  tones  of  that  voice, 
which  once  was  music  to  her  now  dead  parents,  she 
knew  that  the  child  was  drunk.  And  yet  that  child 
was  not  only  her  brother,  but  her  King ! 

As  for  herself,  she  heroically  strove  to  occupy 
the  wearisome  hours  of  her  solitary  imprisonment 
as  best  she  might.  Not  long  since  in  a  palace  she 
had  been  waited  upon  by  some  of  the  most  illus- 
trious women  in  Europe ;  her  every  want  had  been 
anticipated  ;  but  now  she  had  to  sweep  her  own 
prison  floor.  She  had  no  light,  save  that  which  came 
struggling  through  barred  windows  ;  no  food,  save 
that  which  was  rudely  pushed  by  a  rough  hand 
through  a  momentarily  unbolted  door — but  a  door 
which  seemed  eternally  closed  against  her ;  no  mental 
resource,  save  that  of  repeating  her  prayers ;  no 
means  even  of  calculating  time,  save  by  counting  the 
heavy  nights  and  days  as  they  passed,  or  by  suffering 
from  either  the  oppression  of  heat  or  the  pain  of  cold, 
as  the  seasons  slowly  succeeded  each  other. 

She  was  scarcely  sixteen  years  of  age  when  she 
found  herself  thus  absolutely  alone  ;  but  in  the  midst 
of  this  seeming  death  of  her  life  in  its  early  spring-time 
she  learned  to  be  thankful  for  small  mercies — such  as 
a  warm  and  sunny  day,  instead  of  a  bleak  and  stormy 
one  ;    for   clean   water,    wherewith    to    perform    her 


140        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF   FRANCE. 

most  meagre  toilette  ;  for  the  occasional  society  of  a 
little  dog,  which,  at  a  later  date,  was  allowed  to  creep 
through  her  but  seldom  unbarred  door  ;  and  for  being 
still  allowed  to  keep  a  piece  of  knitting,  at  which 
she  worked  occasionally,  though,  perhaps,  it  only 
helped  to  weary  her. 

Upon  few  and  far-between  occasions  the  municipal 
authorities  of  the  prison  entered  her  cell  on  a  brief 
visit  of  inspection.  She  knew  not  as  yet  that  her 
mother  and  her  aunt  were  both  dead,  and  she  there- 
fore implored  the  Government  emissaries  to  tell  her 
of  those  dear  ones.  "Tell  me  of  my  mother,"  she 
would  exclaim,  "  tell  me  of  my  aunt.  It  is  most 
horrible,"  she  one  day  added,  "  to  be  parted  thus 
from  the  one  for  just  a  year,  and  from  the  other  for 
months,  without  knowing  what  has  become  of  either 
of  them." 

"  You  are  not  ill  ?  "  asked  one  of  the  officials. 

"  Sir,"  she  answered,  "  the  most  cruel  sickness  is 
that  of  the  heart." 

"  Hope,"  he  exclaimed,  in  vague  reply.  "  Hope  in 
the  goodness  and  the  justice  of  the  French." 

And  what  a  hope  for  this  Princess,  who  knew  that 
her  father  had  fallen  a  victim  to  such  goodness  and 
justice !  Her  only  real  hope  was  in  the  faith  im- 
parted to  her  by  that  same  revered  father,  for  she 


DUCHESSES  DANGOULEME  AND  DE  BERRI.     i4I 

never  forgot  how,  at  her   first  communion,  he    had 
conjured  her  to  hold  fast  to  it  in  adversity. 

At  last,  by  counting  the  dreary  days  and  nights, 
she  knew  that  her  birthday  had  come  round  again, 
and  that  she  was  seventeen  years  of  age.  Then,  un- 
expectedly by  her,  she  was  suddenly  delivered  from 
prison,  and  told  that,  owing  to  an  exchange  of 
prisoners  between  France  and  Austria,  she  was  forth- 
with to  be  sent  to  Vienna,  there  to  'claim  a  shelter 
from  strangers,  for  such  personally  were  her  maternal 
Austrian  kinsfolk  to  her. 

Then,  too,  she  was  at  length  fearfully  convinced 
that  all  whom  she  had  loved  in  France  were  dead  ; 
and  never  did  this  long  captive  Princess  feel  more 
utterly  alone  in  the  world  than  when,  ere  being  led 
forth  by  municipal  authority  from  her  prison  of  the 
Temple,  she  turned  and  wrote  upon  one  of  the  walls 
of  her  cell — 

"  Oh,  my  God  !  forgive  those  who  caused  my  parents 
to  die  ! " 

Yes ;  after  nineteen  months  of  absolute  isolation, 
she  was  to  find  herself  an  exile,  though  at  liberty. 
She  was  now  a  woman,  though  she  had  been  scarcely 
more  than  a  child  when  first  she  entered  the  prison 
which  at  length  she  was  about  to  leave.  But  what 
was  life  to  her  now  that  her  hitherto  brave  heart  was 


142        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF  FRANCE. 

broken  by  the  assurance  that  her  father,  her  mother, 
her  aunt,  her  brother — all,  in  short,  who  had  made  life 
most  dear  to  her — were  dead  ?  What  was  liberty, 
when  (still  as  State  prisoner  until  she  crossed  the 
frontiers  of  her  native  land)  she  was  to  leave  the 
country  which,  despite  its  recent  blood-stains,  she 
loved  as  that  over  which  her  ancestors  had  reigned 
for  centuries,  and  in  the  eventual  redemption  of  which 
she  believed  as  an  article  of  its  antique  and  glorious 
faith  ! 

Did  the  betrothed  companion  of  her  childhood 
still  survive  ?  As  yet  it  was  difficult  for  her  to 
certify  this ;  and  even  were  the  Due  d'Angou- 
leme  still  alive,  all  things  had  changed  since  last 
they  met,  for  then  she  was  but  a  child,  and  now 
she  had  become  a  woman,  and  therefore  a  stranger 
to  him. 

At  night-time  she  was  conveyed  away  from  the 
prison  of  the  Temple,  and  upon  the  9th  day  of 
January,  1796,  she  arrived  at  the  Imperial  Palace  of 
Vienna — the  home  of  her  dead  mother's  early  girl- 
hood. Francis  II.  (son  of  the  late  Emperor  Leopold) 
reigned  over  Austria  when  the  orphan  daughter  of 
Marie  Antoinette — the  grand-daughter  and  name- 
sake of  the  late  heroic  Empress  Maria  Theresa — 
arrived   at  Vienna.       She  was    clothed    in   deepest 


DUCHESSES  DANGOULEME  AND  DE  BERRI.     143 

mourning,  and  when,  after  some  weeks  of  seclusion,  she 
appeared  in  the  midst  of  the  Imperial  Court,  it  was  as 
though  a  pale  and  saddened  vision  of  what  her  mother 
once  was  had  risen  up  near  the  throne.  A  household 
was  formed  for  her  on  the  same  'footing  as  that  of  an 
Archduchess  of  Austria.  A  legacy  from  her  aunt,  the 
Duchess  of  Saxe  Teschen,  was  restored  to  her,  and  by 
the  Emperor  and  Empress  of  Austria  she  was  regarded 
also  as  heiress  of  Lorraine.  The  durability  of  the 
French  Republic  was  not  believed  in  by  them,  and 
soon  it  therefore  came  to  pass  that  Madame  Royale 
found  herself  sued  by  them  to  be  the  bride  of  her 
cousin,  the  Archduke  Charles. 

But  to  this  she  would  not  consent ;  for  although 
now  become  a  stranger  to  her  other  cousin,  the  Due 
d'Angouleme,  she  had  learnt  that  he  still  lived,  and 
she  had  never  forgotten  that  by  the — to  her — sacred 
will  of  her  parents,  she  was  betrothed  to  him. 

Her  heart  was  still  sore  with  deep  sorrow,  and  in 
much  need  of  sympathy,  and  the  one  who  best  knew 
how  to  soothe  her  with  tender  care  was  the  bright 
and  brave  relative  who,  nevertheless,  she  would  not 
wed. 

Madame  Royale  was,  by  bitter  discipline  trained  to 
acts  of  self-sacrifice  ;  the  fate  of  her  parents  had  cast 
a  pall  over  every  feeling  of  her  heart ;  but,  neverthe- 


144        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF  FRANCE. 

less,  there  is  only  too  much  probability  that  that 
same  heart  of  hers  was  quickened  in  its  pulsations  by 
the  would-be  wooing  of  her  cousin  Charles,  and  it  is 
quite  certain  that  when  she  inflicted  upon  herself  the 
possible  pain  of  rejecting  him  as  her  husband  she  so 
seriously  offended  her,  and  his,  Austrian  relatives, 
that  her  position  at  the  Court  of  Vienna  became 
henceforth  irksome  in  the  extreme  to  her. 

She  believed  herself  to  be  consecrated  to  the 
memory  of  her  martyred  parents,  and  to  France  ;  and 
in  this  belief  she  was  sustained  by  recent  correspond- 
ence with  her  uncle,  the  elder  surviving  brother  of 
her  father,  who,  although  an  exile  like  herself,  was  by 
all  French  royalists  regarded,  since  the  death  of  her 
brother,  as  King  of  France. 

LOUIS  XVI II.,  as  proscribed  Legitimists  called 
him,  was  residing  at  Mittau,  in  Courland,  having — 
after  many  adventures  as  an  exile — been  invited  to 
do  so  by  the  Emperor  Paul  of  Russia,  whose  prover- 
bially erratic  sympathies  happened  at  that  time  to  be 
in  favour  of  the  ancien  regime  of  France. 

The  Due  d'Angouleme  and  his  younger  brother, 
the  Due  de  Berri,  were  then  also  at  Mittau,  and  the 
chief  wish  of  Louis  XVIII.  was  to  behold  the  elder 
of  these  his  two  nephews  united  in  marriage  to  the 
orphan  daughter  of  Louis  XVI.  and  Marie  Antoinette. 


DUCHESSES  D'ANGOULEME  AND  DE  BERRI.     145 

The  future  fate  of  this  Princess  became,  there- 
fore, an  object  of  contention  betwixt  the  Court  of 
Vienna  and  the  royal  household  at  Mittau,  and  this 
to  such  a  degree  that  although  Madame  Royale  was 
at  first  treated  with  extreme  kindness,  as  the  guest  of 
her  imperial  relatives,  the  Empress  of  Austria,  albeit 
naturally  of  gentle  disposition  and  elegant  manners, 
was  so  incensed  against  her  by  her  persistent  refusal 
to  become  the  wife  of  the  Archduke  Charles,  that  she 
did  not  hesitate  in  letting  her  feel  the  weight  of  her 
displeasure. 

When,  therefore,  by  intervention  of  the  Czar  of 
Russia  the  young  Princess  was,  after  a  stay  of  more 
than  three  years  at  Vienna,  at  length  permitted  to  join 
her  uncle  at  Mittau,  it  was  with  painfully  mixed  feel- 
ings that  she  set  forth  on  her  way  to  that  capital  of 
"  dull  and  ducal  Courland,"  where,  in  a  dreary-looking 
castle,  more  resembling,  in  its  oblong  form,  a  barrack 
than  a  palace,  the  exiled  French  monarch  lived  in 
the  midst  of  a  miniature  Court,  which,  for  the  most 
part,  was  composed  of  proscribed  nobles  and  some- 
what aged  gentlemen,  who,  in  their  exile,  still  clung 
to  the  customs  and  creed  of  France  before  the  Re- 
volution. 

In  the  midst  of  these  devoted  adherents  of  French 
monarchy — adherents  who  had  shed  their  blood  and 


146        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF  FRANCE. 

lost  their  fortunes  in  behalf  of  the  cause  which  they 
regarded  as  that  of  divine  right,  lived  the  Abbe 
Edgeworth,  he  who  at  the  risk  of  his  own  life  had 
sustained  the  martyred  Louis  XVI.  on  the  scaffold, 
and  who  there,  whilst  piously  exhorting  that  monarch 
to  the  last,  and  exclaiming  "  Son  of  St.  Louis,  ascend 
to  Heaven  !  "  had  been  sprinkled  by  the  royal  blood, 
which  was  to  him  as  a  new  baptism. 

Madame  Royale  yearned  to  kneel  at  the  feet  of 
this  ecclesiastic,  and  had  long  desired  to  feel  her 
uncle's  protecting  arms  around  her ;  but  when,  in  the 
month  of  June,  1799,  she  arrived  at  Mittau,  and  was 
most  enthusiastically  welcomed  there,  she  wept  so 
much  that  at  first  it  was  difficult  for  the  loyal  and 
eager  bystanders,  many  of  whom  remembered  her  as 
a  joyous  child  at  Versailles,  to  discern  how  far  she 
now  resembled  either  of  her  late  parents. 

"Be  to  me  a  father,"  she  implored  of  the  King, 
who  fondly  embraced  her  ;  but  although  she  knew 
that  her  affianced  husband,  the  Due  d'Angouleme,  was 
standing  by  the  side  of  his  exiled  Majesty  when  she 
thus  threw  herself  in  the  arms  of  the  latter,  it  was  not 
at  first  to  him  that  she  turned  for  consolation,  but 
rather  to  the  Abbe  Edgeworth,  with  whom  she  soon 
requested  to  be  left  alone,  "  for  to  him,"  she  added, 
"  I  owe  my  most  sacred  gratitude." 


DUCHESSES  D'ANGOULEME  AND  DE  BERRI.    147 

The  pious  priest  was  allowed  to  lead  away  this 
daughter  of  the  monarch  whose  courage  he  had  up- 
held on  the  scaffold,  and  now  she  said  to  him,  "  In 
your  presence  I  find  it  soothing  even  to  shed  these 
bitter  tears."  What  other  words  she  uttered — what 
avowal  she  made,  when  kneeling  at  his  feet  in  the 
sanctity  of  the  conversation,  or  rather,  confession, 
which  ensued,  none  on  earth  can  say,  although  the 
Abbe  afterwards  declared,  "  She  wept  so  much  that  I 
feared  for  the  safety  of  her  health  ;  but  not  one  murmur 
did  she  make  against  the  decrees  of  God." 

The  Due  d'Angouleme  was  a  brave  Prince,  but  had 
become  somewhat  ascetic  in  mind  and  manner  during 
his  long  exile.  He  had  been  the  pupil  of  the  Abbe 
Edgeworth,  and  when  at  length  he  beheld  his  future 
bride  at  Mittau,  and  when,  after  her  conference  with 
the  ecclesiastic  so  much  reverenced  by  them  both,  she 
stood  calmly  in  presence  of  him — her  long-affianced 
husband, — he,  too,  had  memories  more  than  sufficient 
to  impart  an  air  of  solemnity  to  their  meeting  after 
years  of  separation.  For  Madame  Royale  resembled 
her  mother,  Queen  Marie  Antoinette,  in  face,  and 
form,  and  dignified  grace  of  manner,  albeit  all  the 
vivacity  of  youth  had  been  crushed  out  of  her  by 
the  misfortunes  of  that  mother,  one  of  whose  great 
charms,    at   the    time   when   the   Due   d'Angouleme 


148        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF  FRANCE. 

could  most  vividly  remember  her,  lay  in  brilliant 
animation. 

A  prison,  a  scaffold,  a  sea  of  blood  had  risen  and 
surged  up  between  this  betrothed  Prince  and  Princess 
since  the  happy  days  when  he  was  her  favourite  play- 
mate at  Versailles  ;  but,  though  the  bright  and  heroic 
Archduke  Charles  had  meantime  stood  before  her  at 
Vienna,  and  striven  to  win  her  for  his  wife  if  he 
could,  the  "  Orphan  of  the  Temple  "  had  resolved  to 
be  true  to  the  engagement  which  her  parents  had 
made  for  her. 

Wherefore  it  came  to  pass  that  in  the  month  of 
June,  1799,  the  Due  d'Angouleme  was  married  to  his 
cousin,  Madame  Royale,  at  Mittau,  in  presence  of 
their  uncle,  Louis  XVIIL,  the  childless  and  exiled 
King  of  France,  and  in  presence,  too,  of  French  pro- 
scribed royalists,  who  flocked  from  all  parts  of  Europe 
to  witness  the  ceremony,  by  which  it  was  hoped  that 
future  generations  of  French  Kings  would  be  con- 
tinued. 

"  Were  my  crown  a  crown  of  roses,"  said 
Louis  XVIII.  to  the  bride  and  bridegroom,  "  how 
gladly  would  I  at  once  give  it  to  you  !  But  it  is 
a  crown  of  thorns,"  he  added,  "  and  so  I  keep  it." 

Upon  that  summer's  day  when  Madame  Royale 
and  the  Due  d'Angouleme  stood  side  by  side,  bride 


DUCHESSES  DANGOULEME  AND  DE  BERRI.     149 

and  bridegroom,  before  the  marriage-altar,  erected  in 
one  of  the  vast  galleries  of  the  Castle  of  former  and 
feudal  Dukes  of  Courland,  the  long-suffering  hearts 
of  Frenchmen,  of  every  class,  who  had  either  fought 
or  suffered  for  the  cause  of  the  Crown  of  France, 
were  animated  by  joy.  The  altar  was  profusely 
decked  with  flowers,  and  most  conspicuous  amongst 
them  was  the  white  lily  of  the  Bourbons,  which 
gleamed  forth  from  a  background  of  laurels.  The 
Cardinal  de  Montmorency,  formerly  Grand  Almoner 
of  France,  pronounced  the  nuptial  benediction,  but 
the  Abbe  Edgeworth,  whose  voice  was  the  last  on 
earth  to  console  the  martyred  father  of  the  royal 
bride,  was  the  first  now  to  pray  for  her  happiness, 
and  to  hail  her  as  the  Duchesse  d'Angouleme. 

The  Comte  d'Artois  (afterwards  Charles  X.)  was 
unavoidably  absent  at  Holyrood  when  this  marriage 
took  place  at  Mittau  between  his  eldest  son  and  the 
daughter  of  Louis  XVI.  and  Marie  Antoinette,  and 
no  especial  mention  is  made  here  of  the  then  still 
surviving  consort  of  Louis  XVIII.,  because  she  was, 
it  would  seem,  though  present  at  the  ceremony,  suffer- 
ing at  that  time  from  illness — consequent,  perhaps,  on 
sorrow  and  exile — which  not  long  afterwards  termi- 
nated her  life,  that  was  never  one  of  political  import- 
ance. 


150        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF  FRANCE. 

"  Happy,"  it  is  proverbially  said,  "  happy  are  the 
people  who  have  no  annals  ;  "  and  it  is  therefore  to  be 
hoped  that  as  the  following  year  at  Mittau  has  no  es- 
pecial records  of  the  Duchesse  d'Angouleme's  life,  save 
those  presented  by  her  various  works  of  charity,  she 
had  at  least  found  the  peace  of  mind  which  had  so 
long  been  denied  to  her. 

But  at  the  beginning  of  the  year  following,  and  on 
the,  to  her,  most  sacred  anniversary  of  her  father's 
death,  news  arrived  at  Mittau  which  compelled  the 
immediate  flight  of  the  illustrious  exiles  from  that 
retreat,  for  by  a  sudden  change  of  politics  on  the  part 
of  the  Czar,  on  whose  hospitality  they  had  hitherto 
been  dependent  in  Courland,  and  who  Would  have 
found  himself  compromised  with  Bonaparte  if  he  still 
harboured  them  there,  they  were  compelled  to  depart, 
and  that  in  the  midst  of  coldest  winter. 

It  was  to  England  that  they,  even  then,  perhaps, 
looked  for  eventual  shelter  ;  but,  meanwhile,  on  their 
way  into  Prussian  Poland,  they  had  to  pass  through 
vast  and  dreary  tracts  of  land,  covered  with  snow  so 
deep  that  the  journey  was  fraught  with  danger  and 
distress. 

It  was  then  that  the  Duchesse  d'Angouleme 
was  first  called  by  her  uncle,  "  the  Modern  An- 
tigone."     It  was  by   her  heroic  love   for    him,    and 


DUCHESSES  DANGOULEME  AND  DE  BERRI.     151 

the  strength  of  her  resignation — a  resignation  learnt 
by  her  at  the  foot  of  the  Cross — that  she  sustained 
him  under  the  trials  by  which  he  found  himself  beset 
on  every  side  during  this  bleak  and  humiliating 
period  ;  for  sometimes,  through  the  density  of  the 
frigid  air,  they  could  scarcely  see  their  way  over  the 
snow-covered  and  cold  ground  ;  and,  being  compelled 
— as  likewise  were  their  faithful  adherents — to  de- 
scend from  their  carriages  because  the  roads  were 
invisible,  they  were  compelled  to  walk  more  than 
ankle-deep  in  snow,  over  ground  undermined  by 
cavities,  into  which  they  might  sink  at  any  moment. 

The  Duchesse  d'Angouleme  had  to  support  her 
already  somewhat  aged  and  infirm  uncle  through 
this  horrible  journey,  but  though  she  herself  were 
suffering  from  it  sorely,  and  even  if,  though  at  night 
she  could  rarely  find  a  place  wherein  to  lay  her  head, 
dreading  all  the  time  that  this  place — some  remote 
and  far-off  village  on  the  desert  plains — might  be  a 
den  of  thieves  and  murderers,  her  courage  never  failed  ; 
and  it  was  her  voice  (penetrating  in  its  sweet  tones  of 
encouragement  even  through  the  occasionally  fierce 
hurricanes),  which  soothed  the  King,  and  cheered  on 
as  many  of  his  long-tried  adherents  who  had  con- 
trived to  follow  him.  Nor  was  her  husband  with  her 
to  sustain  her  under  this  new  trial,  for,  by  the  duties 


152        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF   FRANCE. 

of  his  royal  and  military  rank,  he  had  been  compelled 
to  join  the  loyal  but  small  army  of  French  legitimists, 
who  had  then  placed  themselves  under  the  "  last 
Great  Conde,"  as  their  chief. 

In  the  Cracovian  vicinity  of  Warsaw,  Louis  XVIII. 
and  his  "  Antigone  "  at  length  again  found  a  refuge, 
being  then  reduced  to  such  painful  vicissitudes  in 
behalf  of  some  of  the  exiled  King's  devoted  body- 
guard, who  had  voluntarily  joined  him  in  his  wan- 
derings, that  the  Duchesse  d'Angouleme,  through  the 
friendly  intervention  of  the  Danish  Consul,  pawned 
her  diamonds  (for  two  thousand  ducats)  in  behalf  of 
these  loyal  but  long-exiled  sons  of  France. 

It  is  said,  and  upon  good  authority,  that  Bonaparte, 
knowing  of  the  straits  to  which  the  rightful  ruler  of 
France  was  reduced,  tried  to  tempt  him,  through  the 
medium  of  Prussia,  to  the  formal  and  final  surrender 
of  all  claims  to  the  throne  of  France,  by  grants  of 
more  than  enough  to  secure  a  regal  fortune  to  him, 
but  Louis  XVIII.,  and  every  surviving  Prince  of  the 
scattered  House  of  Bourbon,  proudly  refused  this 
concession ;  and  that  most  indignantly  it  was  re- 
garded by  the  Duchesse  d'Angouleme.  To  the  latter, 
when  quite  a  child  at  Versailles,  the  future  Emperor 
Paul  of  Russia  had  expressed  a  hope  that  "  some  day 
when  she  became  a  woman,  he  might  have  the  honour 


DUCHESSES  D'ANGOULEME  AND  DE  BERRI.     153 

of  receiving  her  in  his  dominions  ;  "  that  honour  in 
the  then  most  unexpected  way,  had  been  conferred 
upon  him,  when,  as  already  here  told,  she  joined  her 
uncle  in  exile.  Since  then  she  had,  as  also  here  seen, 
been  driven  forth  by  him  into  fresh  exile ;  but  at  last, 
in  the  year  1801,  this  politically  capricious  monarch, 
vulgarly  called  "  Mad  Paul,"  died,  and  by  his  son, 
Alexander,  who  succeeded  him,  some  of  the  privileges 
formerly  accorded  by  Paul  to  the  Bourbons  were 
restored. 

Thus  it  came  to  pass  that  when,  in  the  year  of  war 
and  bloodshed,  1806 — 7,  numbers  of  wounded  and 
dying  French  prisoners  were  carried  to  Mittau,  the 
Duchesse  d'Angouleme  was  enabled  to  repair  thither 
in  aid,  not  only  of  them,  as  a  Sister  of  Charity,  but 
also  of  the  Abbe  Edgeworth,  whose  most  earnest 
cares  were  there  devoted  to  them. 

In  the  military  hospital  of  Mittau  he  found  con- 
stant occupation,  until  a  frightfully  epidemic  fever 
there  breaking  out  amongst  his  patients  and  peni- 
tents, he  himself  caught  it,  and  it  now  became  the 
task  of  the  Duchesse  dAngouleme  to  watch  over  him, 
even  though  at  the  risk  of  her  own  life. 

The  Abbe  Edgeworth,  though  devoted  to  the  royal 
cause  of  France,  was  a  confessor  and  not  a  courtier. 
He  had  never  sought  favour  on  the  steps  of  a  throne, 


154        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF  FRANCE. 

though  he  had  breathed  consolation  into  a  King's  ears 
on  those  of  a  scaffold.  He  had  helped  to  cheer  the 
exile  of  the  proscribed  monarch  of  France,  and  had 
followed  him  through  the  cold  and  dreary  plains 
which  that  monarch  had  lately  been  made  to 
traverse,  and  now,  having  returned  to  Mittau,  he 
lay  dying  because,  though  not  himself  a  Frenchman 
born,  he  had  shown  no  earthly  mercy  to  himself  in 
his  earnestness  for  the  faith  of  France — the  faith 
which  had  there  been  proscribed  and  profaned  by 
the  blood-stained  worshippers  of  the  Goddess  of 
Reason. 

But  at  his  side  stood  to  the  last  that  royal 
daughter  of  France,  by  the  blood  of  whose  martyred 
father  he  had  been  sprinkled.  It  was  she  who 
smoothed  his  pillow,  and  who,  in  her  turn,  whispered 
words  of  heavenly  hope  to  him.  The  illness  of  which 
he  lay  dying  was,  as  beforesaid,  a  contagious  illness, 
and  one  which  might  disfigure  her  if  imparted  to  her. 
This  Princess  who,  in  his  last  days,  fulfilled  the 
double  duties  of  a  daughter  and  a  nurse  to  him,  was 
still  young  and  handsome.  She  was  a  wife  anxious 
to  preserve  the  admiration  of  her  husband,  desirous 
of  becoming  a  mother,  and — though  long  exiled — it 
was  hoped  by  loyal  Frenchmen,  that  some  day  she 
would  shine  conspicuously  in  the  palaces  where  once 


DUCHESSES  D'ANGOULEME  AND  DE  BERRL     155 

her  mother  had  reigned  supreme.  But  the  Duchesse 
d'Angouleme  never  hesitated  in  the  risk  she  ran  of 
danger  or  disfigurement  to  herself;  for,  whilst  kneeling 
reverently  at  the  side  of  the  dying  Abbe  Edgeworth, 
she  forgot  not  that  it  was  his  voice  which  had  spoken 
the  last  words  of  exultant  hope  to  her  father,  and  for 
the  sake  of  this  memory  she,  in  her  turn,  became  to 
him  an  angel  of  consolation. 

"  Our  Angel,"  was  another  epithet  of  endearment 
by  which  Louis  XVIII.  henceforth  distinguished  his 
heroic  niece.  In  his  youth  this  crownless  King  of 
France  had  been  somewhat  of  a  Voltairien  in  principle, 
an  anonymous  pamphleteer  in  practice,  and  now,  in 
his  premature  old  age,  he  was  a  pedant,  and  fond 
rather  of  Pagan  than  of  Christian  philosophy. 

But  none  the  less  he  revered  the  niece  who  taught 
him  by  her  own  conduct,  rather  than  by  words — for 
of  these  she  was  not  abundant — to  endure  adversity, 
and  when  at  last  she  arrived  with  him  in  England, 
there  to  lay  claim  to  British  protection,  and  a  provision 
generously  granted  by  the  British  Government,  she 
was,  indeed,  regarded  as  "  Our  Angel"  by  innumerable 
French  emigrants,  who,  in  the  "  one  free  isle  "  un- 
conquercd  by  Napoleon,  had  sought  a  refuge. 

For  about  five  hundred  pounds  of  annual  rent, 
Louis  XVIII.  was  enabled  to  live  at  Hartwcll  Hall, 


156        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF   FRANCE. 

an  agreeable  residence,  not  far  from  Oxford,  apper- 
taining at  that  time  to  Sir  George  Lee. 

The  amiable  consort  of  •  Louis  XVIII.  was  now 
dead ;  the  Comte  d'Artois,  sole  surviving  brother  of 
the  King,  was  generally  absent  with  his  younger  son, 
the  Due  de  Berri,  either  at  Holyrood  or  on  the  con- 
tinent, striving  to  evoke  aid  for  the  restoration  of 
monarchy  in  France.  A  large  suite  of  faithful 
followers  was  necessarily  sustained  by  his  proscribed 
Majesty,  and  as  the  health  of  the  latter  had  suffered 
much  during  years  of  vicissitude,  the  Due  and  the 
Duchesse  d'Angouleme  found  themselves  already 
placed  in  a  position  of  responsibility  and  one  requiring 
much  discretion. 

To  them,  as  yet,  no  child  was  given.  The  husband, 
who  was  not  less  saintly  than  he  was  brave,  venerated 
the  many  virtues  of  his  wife,  but,  though  those  around 
her  called  her  "  Angel,"  she  found  herself  in  need  of 
woman's  patience,  for  all  French  royalists  had  fixed 
their  hearts  upon  her  bringing  forth  an  heir  to  the 
legitimate  throne  of  France  (the  eventual  restoration 
of  which  to  its  rightful  owners  they  never  doubted), 
and,  though  now  married  for  many  years,  the  daughter 
of  Louis  XVI.  and  Marie  Antoinette  had  given  no 
signs  of  maternity. 

She  was  devoted  to  her  husband  and  he  to  her, 


DUCHESSES  UANGOULEME  AND  DE  BERRI.     157 

but  she  became  melancholy  in  aspect,  albeit  never 
losing  that  of  a  dignified  princess.  Affable  with  the 
poor,  but  reserved  in  presence  of  the  rich  and  noble,  she 
seemed  ever  to  be  awaiting,  as  an  article  of  her  creed, 
some  great  event  which  would  restore  her  to  the  land 
of  her  birth — the  land  over  which  her  ancestors  had 
reigned  for  almost  countless  generations,  and  which 
she  now  regarded  as  given  over,  temporarily,  to  "  the 
usurper,"  because  of  that  great  crime  of  regicide  which 
had  made  her  an  orphan. 

Though  by  no  means  a  political  intrigante,  this 
pious  Princess  used  the  great  influence  which  both 
her  high  social  position  and  the  respect  due  to  her 
exalted  character  accorded  to  her  in  England,  in  order 
to  effect  the  return  of  the  Bourbons  to  France,  and 
at  last  this  event  (in  18 14)  came  to  pass,  when,  mainly 
by  the  efforts  of  the  Allied  Sovereigns  of  Europe, 
Louis  XVIII.  was  restored  to  the  throne  of  his  fore- 
fathers, after  an  exile  of  nearly  a  quarter  of  a  century's 
duration. 

With  him  reappeared  in  Paris  his  brother,  the 
Comtc  d'Artois,  and  the  two  sons  of  the  latter — the 
Dukes  d'Angouleme  and  de  Bern.  The  two  elder  of 
these  Bourbon  Princes  were  still  young  men  when'they 
were  forced  to  emigrate  from  France,  but  now  they 
were  old   men— the  King  even  prematurely  so  infirm 


158        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF    FRANCE. 

as  to  be  quite  unable  to  show  himself  on  horseback,  as 
did  still  his  brother  d'Artois. 

In  the  Dukes  d'Angouleme  and  de  Berri  great 
interest  was  manifested  when  all  the  surviving 
members  of  the  royal  family  of  France  re-entered 
Paris,  but  it  was  the  Duchesse  d'Angouleme,  the 
daughter  of  Louis  XVI.  and  Marie  Antoinette,  who 
most  excited  public  attention  upon  that  occasion,  for 
it  could  not  be  forgotten  that  when  she  last  quitted 
the  Chateau  of  the  Tuileries,  towards  which  she  was 
now  journeying  by  the  side  of  her  uncle,  she  was 
scarcely  more  than  a  child  under  the  protection  of  her 
since  martyred  parents,  and  that  now  she  was  a 
woman — the  woman,  though  at  that  moment  very 
pale  and  sorrowful, — upon  whom  the  hopes  of  France 
were  fixed.  For  this  Princess  herself  nothing  seemed 
just  then  to  remain  to  her  but  the  overwhelming 
anguish  of  memory ;  and  when  the  State  carriage  in 
which  she  rode  came  in  sight  of  the  Tuileries,  she 
fainted.  Like  one  dead  was  she  carried  into  the 
palace  where  once  she  had  dwelt  with  all  those,  since 
dead,  who  then  were  dear  to  her ;  and  though  on  the 
following  day  she  appeared  before  the  public,  stand- 
ing between  her  two  uncles  (Louis  XVIII.  and 
Monsieur  the  Comte  d'Artois,  afterwards  Charles  X.), 
the  cries  from  below  of  "  Vive  le  Roi !  "  seemed  but 


DUCHESSES  D'ANGOULEME  AND  DE  BERRL     159 

to  recall  to  her  the  remembrance  of  her  father,  who, 
long  since  also  standing  there,  had  been  insulted  by  the 
mob  at  whose  blood-stained  hands  he  was  doomed 
to  perish. 

Nevertheless,  she  quickly  held  a  reception  at  the 
Tuileries.  All  who  attended  that  first  Court  of  the 
Duchesse  d'Angouleme  wore  white,  the  emblem  of 
the  fleur-de-lys,  the  lustrously-pure  banner  of  which 
was  then  floating  high  over  the  Tuileries,  where,  for 
the  moment  no  recollection  either  of  the  tricolour  or 
the  eagle  seemed  to  remain.  The  Duchesse  d'Angou- 
leme was  herself  clad  in  spotless  costume  ;  white  were 
the  feathers  waving  over  her  queenly  head,  and 
white  was  the  long  dazzling  train  she  wore  ;  but, 
as  her  uncle,  the  newly-restored  King,  wittily  ob- 
served to  her,  when  passing  through  the  salons  and 
galleries  of  the  Tuileries,  "  My  dear  Antigone,  ennemis 
(enemies)  here  are  round  us  everywhere,"  and  in 
order  better  to  explain  himself,  he  pointed  to  the 
cypher  N.  placed  {mis)  by  Napoleon  on  the  ceilings 
and  the  walls  of  the  palace  now  re-entered  by  the 
Bourbons. 

After  the  restoration  of  the  latter  began  one  of 
the  bitterest  trials  to  which  the  already  much-tried 
daughter  of  Marie  Antoinette  had  been  subjected  ;  for 
upon  every  side  she  was  made  to  feel  the  importance 


160        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF  FRANCE. 

of  an  heir  to  the  antique  though  newly  re-established 
royal  race  of  France,  and  she  began  utterly  to  despair 
of  ever  crowning  the  hopes  of  the  nation  in  this 
respect. 

When  in  England,  she  had  entertained  an  idea  that 
in  France  alone,  a  future  King  of  France  would  be  born, 
but  time  robbed  her  of  this  fond  illusion,  and  though 
she  became  most  popular  with  all  French  royalists  by 
her  heroism  in  inciting  the  troops  at  Bordeaux  at  the 
time  of  Napoleon's  escape  from  Elba,  for  the  cele- 
brated "  Hundred  Days "  preceding  the  battle  of 
Waterloo,  she  would  rather  have  been  hailed  as  the 
most  august  mother  in  France  than  regarded  as  such 
a  heroine  that  even  Napoleon  himself — afterwards 
speaking  of  her  at  St.  Helena — called  her  "  the  only- 
man  of  her  family." 

Louis  XVIII.  was  again  brought  back  to  Paris, 
after  the  battle  of  Waterloo,  but  he  became  more 
than  ever  sensible  that  his  own  health  was  failing  fast, 
and  that  from  his  much-loved  and  devoted  niece,  the 
Duchesse  d'Angouleme,  who  had  then  been  married 
sixteen  years,  he  could  scarcely  hope  for  a  continua- 
tion of  his  race. 

And  therefore  it  came  to  pass,  that  a  marriage  was 
immediately  projected  between  the  Due  de  Berri,  the 
younger    and    more    popular    brother    of    the    Due 


DUCHESSES  DANGOULEME  AND  DE  BERRI.     161 

d'Angouleme,  with  the  young  Neapolitan  Princesse, 
Marie  Caroline  (grand-daughter  of  King  Ferdinand), 
who  was  already  connected  by  numerous  ties  of  blood 
with  both  France  and  Austria. 

The  Duchesse  d'Angouleme  had  long  been  accus- 
tomed, whether  in  a  prison  or  a  palace,  to  practise 
self-abnegation,  but  perhaps  even  if  her  saintly  friend 
and  confessor,  the  Abbe  Edgeworth,  had  been  still 
alive,  he  could  scarcely  have  estimated  how  much  she 
needed  to  exercise  the  doctrine  of  the  Cross,  when, 
during  the  summer  of  1816,  she  found  herself  sup- 
planted at  the  Court,  and  likewise  in  sight  of  the 
populace,  by  a  Princess  who,  as  yet,  had  never  done 
or  suffered  aught  in  behalf  of  France,  who  was  com- 
paratively ignorant  of  the  trials  to  which,  for  the  sake 
and  by  the  faults  of  France,  she,  the  hereditary  royal 
daughter  of  that  nation,  had  been  exposed,  but  for 
whom  she  was  nevertheless  compelled  to  prepare 
with  smiles  and  welcome. 

It  was  at  Fontainebleau  that  the  two  Duchesses 
d'Angouleme  and  de  Berri  first  met.  The  latter  had 
never,  as  yet,  beheld  her  husband,  to  whom  she  was 
already  wedded  by  proxy.  He  was  many  years 
older  than  she  was,  and  he  had  written  to  her  on  her 
way  from  Naples  through  the  southern  provinces  of 
France — a   way  which,   to   her,  was  a  triumphal  pro- 

M 


162        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF   FRANCE. 

gress, — "  Press  my  hand  when  you   see   me,  if   you 
dislike  me  not  too  much." 

At  length,  on  the  afternoon  of  a  bright  summer's 
day,  she  came — eager  and  impatient — though  at- 
tended by  all  royal  etiquette,  through  the  forest  of 
Fontainebleau,  where,  on  an  open  greensward  space, 
stood  Louis  XVIII.,  his  nephew  the  bridegroom,  Due 
de  Berri,  with  the  Due  and  Duchesse  d'Angouleme, 
ready  to  receive  her. 

A  carpet  had  been  placed  on  the  ground,  and, 
according  to  punctilio,  the  King  ought  to  have 
advanced  upon  one-half  of  this  carpet,  and  the  bride 
to  have  met  him  upon  its  centre.  But,  before  his 
Majesty — slow  in  movement  from  complicated  infir- 
mities— could  perform  his  part  of  this  ceremony,  the 
bride — a  small  but  ardent  creature,  with  blue  eyes, 
quick  tiny  feet,  and  fair  floating  hair — came  swiftly 
towards  him,  and,  with  all  the  passion  of  her  Italian 
nature,  flung  herself  into  his  arms.  Then,  discerning 
quickly,  by  some  womanly  instinct,  which  was  the 
Prince  who,  although  personally  yet  unknown  to  her, 
was  already  her  husband,  she  did  "  press  his  hand  "  in 
a  way  to  please  him  much,  and  instantly  after  this  she 
seemed  to  seek  a  shelter  for  her  blushing  face  upon 
the  bosom  of  the  woman,  the  Princess,  whom  she  had 
come  to  supplant. 


DUCHESSES  HANGOULEME  AND  DE  BERRI.     163 

The  Duchesse  d'Angouleme  embraced  her  with 
tender  emotion,  and  the  Due  d'Angouleme  also 
proved  himself  nobly  worthy  of  this  occasion,  which 
was  likely  to  give  his  younger  brother  a  lasting 
ascendency  over  him  ;  and  when,  a  few  days  after- 
wards, the  marriage  of  the  Due  and  Duchesse  de 
Berri  was  celebrated  in  public,  with  great  pomp,  at 
Notre  Dame,  most  conspicuously,  yet  meekly,  stood 
the  Due  and  Duchesse  d'Angouleme  near  the  newly- 
wedded  pair,  whilst  prayers  for  posterity  were  being 
invoked  in  behalf  of  the  latter. 

In  honour  of  this  marriage  splendid  fetes  fast 
succeeded  each  other  at  the  Tuileries ;  but  though 
the  Duchesse  d'Angouleme  presided  at  the  festivities, 
the  Duchesse  de  Berri  shone  forth  as  their  chief  central 
charm,  for  this  young  Princess  was  happy  in  her 
newly-wedded  life. 

The  brilliant  little  palace  of  the  Elysee,  in 
the  near  neighbourhood  of  the  Tuileries,  was  ac- 
corded as  a  residence  to  the  Due  and  Duchesse  de 
Berri,  and  the  receptions  there  held  by  them,  in- 
cluding all  the  chief  nobility  of  France,  and  not  ex- 
cluding illustrious  champions  of  literature,  art,  and 
science,  soon  helped  to  make  the  youthful  hostess 
popular. 

She  had  as  yet  lived  only  seventeen  summers  of  a 

si  2 


1 64        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF  FRANCE. 

bright  life,  and  her  husband,  though  in  fact  almost 
old  enough  to  be  her  father,  was  of  such  gay  and 
buoyant  disposition  that"  he  was  quite  ready  to  share 
with  her  all  the  animated  amusements  in  which  she 
delighted.  Sometimes  they  rejoiced  in  escaping  from 
the  formalities  of  royalty  which  surrounded  them, 
and,  arm-in-arm,  would  pass  through  the  gates  of 
their  own  gardens,  into  the  public  thoroughfares  of 
Paris,  where,  being  unrecognised  on  the  pavement  by 
the  crowd,  they  were  pleased  to  observe  the  various 
characteristics  of  the  people,  and  if  such  observation 
happened  to  bring  any  remarkable  case  of  human 
distress  to  their  notice  they  were  afterwards  still  more 
pleased  to  send  some  agent  of  theirs  to  relieve  the 
sufferer,  even  though  to  the  possible  mystification 
of  the  latter  as  to  the  source  from  whence  such  aid 
could  come. 

It  was  well  known  that,  at  some  time  during  his 
exile  preceding  the  Restoration,  the  Due  de  Berri  had 
formed  domestic  ties  for  himself,  though  not  (accord- 
ing to  his  royal  rank)  of  a  legitimate  nature,  and  that 
with  all  due  generosity  he  had  provided  for  the 
mother  of  the  children  born  to  him  ere  yet  he  was 
forced,  for  motives  already  here  named,  to  marry 
the  Neapolitan  Princess,  whose  best  known  baptismal 
name  was  Caroline.    This  political  marriage,  however, 


DUCHESSES  HANGOULEME  AND  DE  BERRI.     165 

soon  became  to  him  such  a  matter  of  personal  felicity 
that,  having  done  all  that  it  was  possible  to  do  respect- 
ing the  companion  of  his  earlier  days,  whose  Christian 
name  was  Virginia,  he  readily  forgave  the  current 
mot  against  him — a  joke  more  American  than 
Parisian, — to  the  effect  that  "  it  was  unfortunate  after 
all  which  France  had  done  in  former  times  for  the 
independence  of  the  United  States,  Virginia  should 
now  be  superseded  by  Carolina." 

As  for  the  royal  little  Duchesse  de  Berri  herself, 
she  loved  her  husband  so  much  that  sometimes  when 
she  heard  the  sounds  of  his  "  coming  home "  from 
some  military  review  in  which  he  had  had  to  take  part, 
— sounds  such  as  those  of  drums  and  trumpets  from 
without,  mingled  with  the  music  of  some  joyous  band 
in  the  court-yard  below, — she  would  rush  forward  to 
meet  him  at  the  foot  of  the  palace  staircase  in  a  way 
which  set  at  defiance  all  the  courtly  etiquette  of  her 
appointed  attendants,  and  this  merely  for  the  pleasure 
of  being  carried  up  that  staircase  in  his  arms  like  a 
child  ;  for  although  a  woman  in  strength  of  feeling, 
she  was  then  scarcely  more  than  a  child  in  age  and 
size. 

Soon  the  hope  of  her  bringing  forth  an  heir  to  the 
throne  of  France,  seemed  on  the  point  of  realization  ; 
but,   without   here   entering    into   all   the   details   of 


166        ILLUSTRIOUS    WOMEN    OF  FRANCE. 

disappointments  regarding  royal  children,  who  were 
born  only  to  die,  or  whose  premature  births  were  sub- 
jects only  of  regret  to  French  loyalists,  one  little 
daughter  alone  survived  to  the  Due  and  Duchesse 
de  Berri  after  four  years  of  otherwise  happy  union. 

Henceforth  they  seem  to  have  agreed  not  to  allow 
publicity  to  any  renewal  of  expectation  which 
might,  in  its  end,  only  frustrate  the  wishes  of  the 
King  and  the  people.  No  bulletins  were  for  some 
time  issued  of  the  health  of  her  royal  Highness  the 
Duchesse  de  Berri,  but  nobody  doubted  the  fact  of 
that  perfect  health,  because,  during  the  Carnival  time 
in  Paris  of  1820  she  was  not  only  cheered  in  public 
wherever  she  appeared — cheered  as  the  most  radiantly 
happy  of  princesses, — but  at  the  balls  and  entertain- 
ments, both  at  the  Tuileries  and  the  Elysee,  she  was 
the  first  to  enter  into  the  spirit  of  the  scene,  and,  with 
her  overflowing  life,  to  animate  it  by  the  fascination 
of  her  graceful  presence. 

Political  storms  often  menaced  France,  but  from 
these  the  popular  Prince  and  Princess,  who  here  just 
now  stand  foremost,  had  all  the  less  to  fear,  because 
their,  as  yet,  only  surviving  child  was  a  girl,  and 
therefore  by  no  possibility,  according  to  the  Salic  law 
of  France,  an  heir  to  the  throne. 

Unclouded,  therefore,  seemed  their  happiness  when, 


DUCHESSES  DANGOULEME  AND  DE  BERRL     167 

on  Shrove  Tuesday — the  last  day  of  Lent,  in  the 
year-i820, — they  determined  to  show  themselves  that 
night  at  the  Opera,  where  three  pieces  (  "  Le  Carnaval 
de  Venise"  "Le  Rossignol"  and  " Les  Noces  de  Ga- 
mache")  were  to  be  performed. 

It  is  true  that,  unknown  to  the  Duchesse  de  Berri, 
her  husband  had  previously  received  some  letters  of  a 
menacing  character,  but  as  these  were  anonymous  and 
seemingly  altogether  beneath  notice,  he  had  paid  no 
heed  to  them,  save  by  laughingly  saying  to  one  of  his 
attendants  :  "  Well,  all  that  these  affirm  is  that  I, 
like  my  revered  ancestor,  Henri  IV.,  am  to  die  in 
Paris."  But  with  the  Carnival  and  by  the  force  of 
some  new  hope  illuminating  his  whole  being,  the  cause 
of  which  will  presently  here  be  seen, — the  Due  de 
Berri  went,  on  the  13th  day  of  February  (Shrove 
Tuesday),  to  dine  with  his  uncle,  the  King,  at  the 
Tuileries,  ere  proceeding  to  the  Opera  to  join  his  wife 
there. 

During  dinner  he  seemed  in  the  highest  spirits, 
chatting  merrily  in  a  way  to  enliven  Louis  XVIII., 
whose  strength  was  failing  fast,  but  whose  mental 
powers  were  still  in  sufficient  force  to  enjoy  and  share 
the  brilliant  conversation  of  his  nephew,  until  the 
latter  went  forth  on  his  way  to  the  Opera,  and  his 
Majesty  retired  to  rest. 


1 68        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF   FRANCE. 

Almost  all  the  members  of  the  Royal  Family  were 
at  the  Opera  that  night,  and  most  pleasing  of  them 
all  to  behold  was  the  Duchesse  de  Bern,  in  full  even- 
ing costume,  with  diamonds  and  flowers  upon  her 
head  and  breast. 

"Le  Carnaval  de  Venise  "  was  just  then  a  great 
success  in  Paris,  and  the  excited  audience  was  all  the 
more  delighted  with  this  representation  of  the  piece 
because  between  its  acts  public  curiosity  was  gratified 
by  observing  how  the  Due  and  Duchesse  de  Berri  left 
their  own  box  to  pay  visits  to  that  of  the  Due 
d'Orleans  (afterwards  Louis  Philippe,  King  of  the 
French)  and  other  of  their  Royal  relatives. 

Presently,  when  the  Duchesse  de  Berri  had  returned 
to  her  own  seat,  she  complained  of  fatigue,  and  her 
husband  recommended  her  instant  departure,  pro- 
mising that  he  himself  would  remain  to  the  end  of 
the  entertainment. 

This  being  agreed  upon,  she  left  her  box,  leaning 
upon  his  arm,  and  thus  reached  her  carriage,  which, 
with  her  attendant  suite,  awaited  her  at  the  corner  of 
the  four  streets  that  flanked  the  theatre,  one  of 
which  was  the  Rue  Richelieu.  A  sentinel  on  guard 
had  to  'turn  his  back  to  this  street  whilst  present- 
ing arms  in  honour  of  the  Prince  and  Princess  as 
they  issued    forth    upon    the    steps    and  under    the 


DUCHESSES  HANGOULEME  AND  DE  BERRI.     169 

portico  of  the  theatre.  The  chief  aide-de-camp  of 
the  Due  de  Berri  also  turned  his  back  in  the  same 
direction,  whilst  the  first  equerry  of  the  Duchesse  de 
Berri  stood  by  the  open  door  of  her  carriage,  ready  to 
present  to  her  his  left  hand,  so  as  to  assist  her  Royal 
Highness  in  ascending  its  steps,  the  right  hand  of  the 
Princess  being  held  by  that  of  her  husband. 

Unprophetic  of  evil,  the  happy  Princess  quickly 
entered  her  carriage,  the  Comtesse  de  Bethisy  being 
her  lady-in-waiting  upon  that  occasion. 

"  Adieu,"  or  "  Au  revoir,"  merrily  cried  out  the 
Due  de  Berri  as  his  wife  was  about  to  start  for  what 
they  both  supposed  would  be  but  an  hour's  separation 
from  each  other.  "  Adieu,  Caroline,  we  shall  quickly 
meet  again." 

The  carriage  was  about  to  start,  its  royal  occupant 
leaning  forward  to  wave  her  hand  playfully  in  answer 
to  her  husband's  cheerful  words,  when  suddenly  she 
saw  him  stagger  backwards  and  supported  against  the 
wall  of  the  theatre,  as  though  struck  by  a  fatal  blow, 
signs  of  which  she  had  also  perceived,  like  one  who 
sees  things  in  a  moment  of  time  during  some  horribly 
vivid  dream,  for  an  assassin  had  rushed  round  the 
corner  of  the  Rue  Richelieu,  and  stabbed  her  hus- 
band to  the  heart. 

Forgetful  of  danger  to  herself,  she  leapt  from  her 


170        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF   FRANCE. 

carriage,  and  in  another  instant,  having  flown  up  the 
steps  of  the  theatre,  she  flung  her  arms  round  the 
being  most  dear  to  her  on  earth,  and,  clinging  to  him 
thus,  she  was,  together  with  him,  dragged  into  the 
vestibule  of  the  Opera  House ;  he,  gasping  some 
attempted  words  of  comfort  to  her,  and  she,  bathed  in 
his  blood,  which,  flowing  profusely  from  the  wound  he 
had  received,  stained  her  hair,  her  dress,  the  flowers 
and  the  diamonds  which  she  wore. 

For  the  Prince  himself  had  withdrawn  the  dagger 
from  his  heart  by  an  instantaneous  movement,  crying 
at  the  same  moment,  "  I  am  assassinated." 

Pursuit  of  the  assassin  was  also  immediate,  al- 
though it  was  reserved  for  a  pastry-cook's  boy,  who 
happened  to  be  in  the  adjoining  street,  to  capture  him. 

Meantime  the  gay  scene  of  the  opera  was  still 
going  on.  Music  and  laughter  resounded  from  the 
orchestra  and  audience  within  the  walls,  and  nobody, 
save  those  in  immediate  attendance  upon  the  Due 
and  Duchesse  de  Berri,  was  yet  aware  that  the  former 
had  already  exclaimed  to  the  latter,  "  My  love,  let  me 
die  in  your  arms." 

The  blow  was  mortal  none  could  doubt,  and,  as 
it  was  quite  impossible  to  remove  the  stricken  Prince 
to  his  home,  he  was  at  once  conveyed  back  to  the 
ante- chamber   of  the  opera  box,  which,  only  a  few 


DUCHESSES  UANGOULEME  AND  DE  BERRI.     171 

minutes  before  he  had  quitted  in  all  the  fulness  of 
life  and  joy. 

Still  the  opera  went  on,  on,  on  to  its  close.  The 
people  of  Paris  had  not  as  yet  the  slightest  idea  of 
what  had  happened  ;  albeit  an  instant  message  was 
despatched  to  the  aged  King  at  the  Tuileries,  to 
other  members  of  the  Royal  Family,  and  the  best 
surgical  aid  had  immediately  been  summoned. 

A  mattrass  and  other  necessaries — all  theatrical 
properties  long  used  in  imaginary  tragedies — were 
quickly  transported  to  the  small  compartment  of  the 
theatre  for  the  use  of  the  Prince,  who  lay  dying  there. 

His  wife  knelt  beside  him  whilst  more  than  one 
operation  was  performed  upon  him,  in  the  desperate 
hope  of  saving  the  life  so  precious  to  France,  but 
precious  beyond  all  things  on  earth  to  her.  She 
desired  even  to  suck  the  wound,  thinking  that  it  was 
poisoned. 

During  agonized  periods  of  scientific  test  as  to 
whether,  indeed,  there  were  the  slightest  chances  of 
eventual  recovery,  she  held  her  husband's  hand  within 
herown,hoping  thereby  to  sustain  hisfainting  strength, 
though  her  own  courage  was  more  and  more  appalled 
by  the  sight  before  her.  The  Prince  himself  knew 
that  life  was  fast  ebbing  from  him,  and  desired  to 
receive   the    last   sacraments  of  his  religion,   and  to 


T72        ILLUSTRIOUS    WOMEN   OF  FRANCE. 

embrace  once  more  his  little  daughter.  The  child 
was  quickly  brought  to  his  side,  having  been  conveyed 
thither  by  her  governess,  Madame  de  Gontaut. 

The  various  members  of  the  Royal  Family  were 
at  length  also  present,  and  amongst  them  the 
Due  and  Duchesse  d'Angouleme.  The  last-named 
Princess,  accustomed  all  her  life  to  sorrow,  and  sorrow's 
only  alleviation — prayer,  was  welcome  as  an  angel  of 
mercy  and  consolation  to  her  young  and,  until  now, 
most  enviable  sister-in-law,  whose  fortitude  was  'sus- 
tained by  her  presence.  Monsieur  (afterwards 
Charles  X.),  the  father  of  the  Due  de  Berri,  was  also 
there  ;  he,  too,  some  years  since,  had  experienced 
an  immense  sorrow  in  the  death  of  Madame  de 
Polastron,  a  lady  to  whom  he  was  most  tenderly 
attached,  and  who,  in  her  last  moments,  so  earnestly 
recommended  him  to  the  love  of  God;  that,  from  the 
time  of  her  decease,  he  had,  though  restored  to  the 
palace  of  his  ancestors,  led  therein  a  life  more  befitting 
a  cloister. 

The  King  came  last,  it  having  been  necessary,  on 
account  of  his  health,  to  use  much  precaution  in  dis- 
turbing him  from  his  slumbers  at  the  Tuileries  in 
order  to  break  to  him  the  news  of  his  nephew's  as- 
sassination. When  the  Due  de  Berri  recognised  his 
Majesty,  the  one  favour  he  implored   was   that   his 


DUCHESSES  D'ANGOULEME  AND  DE  BERRI.     173 

murderer  might  be  pardoned  ;  but  upon  this  point  the 
King  could  only,  even  in  the  midst  of  his  grief,  make 
an  indefinite  reply.  The  Due  and  the  Duchesse 
d'Orleans  were  also  present ;  and  as  the  wounded 
Prince  seemed  to  gasp  for  air,  he  was,  after  midnight, 
transported  by  his  weeping  attendants  to  another  and 
more  spacious  part  of  the  theatre,  from  whence  the 
gay  audience  had  vanished,  never  dreaming  of  the 
frightful  tragedy  which  was  going  on  there,  now  that 
the  lights  were  dim,  and  the  flowers  fading  in  that 
scene  of  the  brilliant  spectacle  witnessed  but  an  hour 
since. 

The  chill  dawn  of  a  February  morning  was 
approaching,  and  the  cold  hand  of  death  pressed 
more  and  more  heavily  on  the  Due  de  Berri,  by 
whose  wounded  side  his  wife  still  crouched  in  despair. 
Her  husband's  sympathy  was  with  her  more  than 
with  himself  at  that  dread  time  ;  the  King  and  all 
the  Royal  Family  stood  or  knelt  in  various  attitudes 
of  misery  near  the  blood-stained  couch  of  the  dying 
Prince,  when  suddenly  the  latter  said  aloud  to  his 
wife,  "  My  love,  be  not  thus  overwhelmed  by 
grief,  but  control  yourself  for  the  sake  of  the  child, 
the  yet  unborn  child,  within  thee." 

As  though  by  an  electric  shock  everybody  present 
was  startled  at  these  words,    for  by  them  was  pro- 


174        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF    FRANCE. 

claimed  that  all  hope  of  legitimate  succession  to  the 
throne  of  France  would  not  expire  with  the  Prince 
who  uttered  them,— the  Prince,  who  was  thus  the  first 
to  announce  in  his  own  hour  of  death  the  coming 
hour  of  the  birth  of  his  posthumous  son,  now  (1873) 
called  by  French  legitimists  Henri  V.,  but  best 
known  to  the  world  at  large  as  the  Comte  de 
Chambord. 

Paris  masqueraders  returning  from  the  last  scenes 
of  the  Carnival  were  still  lingering  about  the  streets, 
quite  unconscious  of  the  public  calamity  which 
had  taken  place,  when  the  Duchesse  de  Berri  was 
conveyed  home  a  widow  from  the  side  of  her  dead 
husband  to  the  Palace  of  the  Elysee,  where,  until  yes- 
terday, she  had  been  so  happy  in  his  society. 

Until  the  last  she  was  most  anxious  to  fulfil  every 
possible  desire  of  his  soul,  and,  remembering  that  he 
was  the  father  of  two  little  daughters,  besides  her  own 
infant  girl  (children  born  of  the  union  unconsecrated 
by  marriage  here  before  spoken  of)  she  had  caused 
these  children  to  be  summoned  to  his  death-bed,  and 
presenting  them  in  her  own  arms  to  him,  had  volun- 
tarily declared  to  him  that  she  would  herself  be  a 
mother  to  them. 

"  Charles,  Charles,"  she  cried  in  her  anguish,  "  I 
have  already  three  children  instead  of  one,"  and  then 


DUCHESSES  DANGOULEME  AND  DE  BERRI.     175 

catching  up  her  own  daughter,  she  said  to  the  two 
young  strangers,  "  Embrace  your  sister." 

It  was  then  that  the  Duchesse  d'Angouleme,  having 
heard  these  words  and  watched  the  conduct  of  the 
Duchesse  de  Berri,  said,  "  She  is  sublime." 

And  heroically  sublime  was  doubtless  the  younger 
of  these  two  Royal  women  at  that  supreme  moment ; 
but  no  sooner  had  she  reached  her  widowed  home 
than  the  agony  of  her  desolation  overwhelmed  her. 
Always  upheld  by  the  great  sympathy  of  the 
Duchesse  dAngouleme,  and  accompanied  by  her  own 
weeping  attendants,  she  was  passing  a  large  mirror  at 
the  Elysee  on  her  way  to  such  rest  as  might  possibly 
be  granted  to  her  fearfully  overtaxed  strength,  but 
when  in  this  mirror  she  beheld  the  haggard  reflection 
of  herself,  and  saw  also  how  her  hair  was  still  stained 
with  her  husband's  blood,  she  caught  up  a  pair  of 
scissors,  which  he  himself  had  only  used  a  few  hours 
previously,  and  suddenly  cut  off  the  whole  of  that 
beautiful  hair,  crying  out,  "  Charles,  Charles,  no  hand 
but  thine,  which  so  often  hath  caressed  it,  shall  ever 
touch  it  upon  my  head."  Then  turning  to  her  lady-in- 
waiting,  Madame  de  Gontaut,  she  said,  "  Give  that 
hair  to  my  daughter  when  she  shall  become  a  woman, 
and  tell  her  that  it  ceased  to  adorn  her  mother  on 
the  terrible  day  of  her  father's  death." 


176        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF   FRANCE. 

Foremost  amongst  those  who  sought  to  soothe  the 
great  anguish  of  the  Duchesse  de  Berri  was  the 
Duchesse  d'Angouleme,  who,  seemingly  quite  forget- 
ful that  her  tender  cares  were  in  this  case  lavished 
upon  a  rival,  became,  indeed,  to  her  a  Sister  of 
Charity,  by  whose  forethought  much  danger  was 
averted  from  the  expectant  mother  of  an  heir  to  the 
throne. 

And  when,  at  last,  the  child  was  born,  a  male  child, 
to  the  immense  joy  of  the  aged  Louis  XVIII.,  who 
himself,  as  here  already  shown,  had  owed  so  much  in 
exile  to  the  care  of  his  elder  niece,  it  was  she,  the 
Duchesse  d'Angouleme,  who  received  the  babe  into 
her  arms  with  as  much  apparent  love  and  pride  as 
though  he  had  been  her  own,  and  she  it  was  who  first 
exhibited  him  from  the  windows  of  the  Tuileries — the 
place  of  his  birth — to  the  eyes  of  the  delighted  multi- 
tude assembled  in  the  gardens  below. 

By  her  he  was  presented  at  the  font  of  baptism, 
and  it  was  her  voice  which  pronounced  the  names 
there  given  to  him  of  Henri  Dieudonne — Henry, 
Godgiven — the  first  in  memory  of  his  ancestor, 
Henri  IV.,  and  the  second  in  gratitude  to  the  King 
of  kings  for  the  advent  of  this  child,  whose  coming 
birth  had  been  proclaimed  by  the  last  words  of  his 
dying  father. 


DUCHESSES  DANGOULEME  AND  DE  BERRI.     177 

To  the  world  at  large  the  infant  Prince  was 
known  as  the  Due  de  Bordeaux,  although  at  a  later 
date,  under  circumstances  here  presently  to  be 
explained,  he  took  his  other  title  of  Count  de  Cham- 
bord. 

His  mother  had  mournfully  secluded  herself  during 
the  seven  months  and  fifteen  days  of  her  widowhood 
before  the  date  of  his  birth  (Sept.  29,  1820),  and 
although  residing  at  the  Tuileries  it  was  but  rarely 
that  she  was  seen.  Pale,  careworn,  clad  in  deepest 
mourning,  she  was  a  melancholy  spectacle  to  the  few 
who  were  privileged  to  approach  her ;  but  after  the 
birth  of  her  son,  it  was  as  though  a  new  life  sustained 
her ;  and,  re-animated  by  hope,  inspired  by  a  strong 
resolution  to  win  popularity,  to  confront  every  danger 
for  his  sake,  she  at  length  re-appeared  in  the  Parisian 
world,  of  which  she  eventually  again  became  the  bril- 
liant centre.  Popular  discontent  concerning  various 
political  measures  of  the  day  were  rife  in  the  capital 
of  France.  The  Duchesse  d'Angouleme,  reverenced 
as  a  saint,  was  more  fit  for  a  cloister  than  a  court ; 
the  health  of  the  King  was  failing  fast ;  his  brother 
and  successor,  the  Comte  d'Artois,  was  likewise  more 
than  ever  a  recluse  since  the  death  of  his  son,  the 
Due  de  Bern,  and  it  therefore  needed  all  the  energy, 
the  renewed  life,  the   fascination  of  the  Duchesse  de 


178        ILLUSTRIOUS    WOMEN    OF   FRANCE. 

Berri  to  sustain  popularity  in  behalf,  as  she  fondly 
hoped,  of  her  posthumous  son's  future. 

Her  hair,  cut  off  by  her  own  hand  in  the  first 
passionate  agony  of  her  widowhood,  grew  again ;  her 
robes  of  black  were  gradually  replaced  by  those  of 
more  cheerful  hue,  and  by  the  time  that  Louis  XVIII. 
was  dead  and  her  father-in-law  (Charles  X.)  succeeded 
to  the  throne,  she  had  again  made  herself  celebrated 
for  the  splendid,  and  even  somewhat  fantastic,  fetes 
inaugurated  by  her  at  the  Tuileries. 

By  the  death  of  Louis  XVIII.  the  Duchesse 
d'Angouleme,  as  wife  of  the  elder  son  of  the  new 
King,  Charles  X.,  became  Dauphiness  of  France. 
This  title  was  to  her  but  a  hollow  sound,  considering 
that  it  was  to  her  nephew  and  not  to  any  son  of  hers 
that  the  crown  of  her  ancestors  would  descend  when 
her  father-in-law  should  also  be  called  upon  by  death 
to  resign  it ;  but,  nevertheless,  she  occupied  by  right 
of  her  exalted  rank  a  prominent  position  on  the 
day  when  her  uncle,  Louis  XVI 1 1.,  was  interred  (with 
all  the  pomp  which  antique  usages  of  Church  and 
State  could  bring  to  bear  upon  the  occasion)  at  St. 
Denis. 

In  his  society  she  had  passed  a  long  exile  ;  to  her 
he  had  been  as  a  father ;  he  had  loved  her  well. 
She,  his  "Antigone,"  as  he  had  been  wont  to  call 


^DUCHESSES  D'ANGOULEME  AND  DE  BERRL     179 

her,  had  nursed  him  through  many  an  illness,  and 
sustained  him  under  many  vicissitudes.  He  had  not 
shared  her  extreme  religious  opinions,  having  prided 
himself,  with  even  a  pedant's  pride,  on  those  which 
"  philosophy  " — so  called  in  his  youth  of  the  time  of 
Voltaire — had  taught  him  ;  but  the  old  King  and  his 
orphan  niece,  his  childless  heroine,  had  loved  each 
other  well,  and  upon  the  day  of  his  burial  she  stood 
forth  as  a  monument  of  sorrow  in  the  sight  of 
all  beholders,  for  when  she  then,  as  Dauphiness, 
appeared  "  in  the  accustomed  sanctuary  of  her  pious 
griefs,"  there  was  a  tribune  draped  in  black,  like  the 
rest  of  the  cathedral,  prepared  for  her,  and  upon  this 
she  stood,  isolated,  whilst  her  husband,  the  Due 
d'Angouleme — or  Dauphin,  as  he  was  now  called — 
acted  as  chief  mourner  in  the  splendid  though  sombre 
scene  below. 

Not  long  since  he  had  waited  in  that  tomb  of  St, 
Denis  to  receive  the  coffin  of  his  brother,  the  Due  dc 
Bern',  and  now  when  that  of  his  uncle,  Louis  XVIII., 
was  solemnly  carried  by  the  Gardes  du  Corps  to  the 
sacred  spot,  the  solemn  ceremony  of  offering  holy 
water  to  the  Royal  dead  and  the  Royal  living  of  his 
family  was  performed  by  him. 

The  Duchesse  d'Angouleme,  declares  one  who  per- 
sonally knew  her,  was  a  holy  martyr.      To  her,  the 

N   2 


180        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN  OF   FRANCE. 

daughter  of  martyred  parents,  belonged  the  sad 
privilege  of  weeping  over  every  fresh  misfortune  of 
her  family ;  she  had  regarded  the  death  of  her 
brother-in-law,  de  Berri,  as  a  fresh  crown  of  thorns, 
a  new  palm  of  saintly  life.  She  had,  as  here  seen, 
taken  his  child  in  her  arms  and  presented  him  to  the 
people  in  proof  of  her  own  self-abnegation  ;  she  had 
done  all  she  could  do  first  to  welcome  in  joy,  and 
then  to  console  in  affliction,  her  young  sister-in-law, 
de  Berri ;  but  when  the  latter,  during  the  earlier  period 
of  the  reign  of  Charles  X.,  showed  herself  ardent  in 
the  pleasures  befitting  her  age, — for,  although  a  widow 
and  a  mother,  she  was  still  in  years  scarcely  more 
than  a  girl — when  she  proved  herself  even  extravagant 
in  her  renewed  patronage  of  art  and  artists,  and  in  all 
ways  manifested  herself  most  eager  to  win  popular 
favour  for  her  son,  the  growing  hope  of  every  loyal 
French  heart,  the  Duchesse  d'Angouleme,  or  the 
Dauphiness,  as  she  was  now  styled,  objected  to  what 
seemed  to  her  serious  mind  the  levity  of  the  Duchesse 
de  Berri,  and  a  slight  estrangement  arose  between 
these  two  Princesses,  who  by  age,  disposition,  here- 
ditary tendencies,  and  education,  were  naturally 
opposed  to  each  other. 

The  fetes  of  the  Duchesse  de  Berri  became  noto- 
rious, and  not  less   so  the  ascetic   seclusion  of  the 


DUCHESSES  DANGOULEME  AND  DE  BERRI.     181 

Duchesse  d'Angouleme.  The  former  grew  more 
and  more  popular,  the  latter  more  and  more  un- 
popular ;  and  not  all  her  nun-like  visits  to  hospitals, 
her  noble  deeds  of  charity,  could  prevent  mischievous, 
nay,  profane,  "  anti-jesuit "  calumnies  being  propa- 
gated against  her,  as  also  against  the  King,  her 
father-in-law,  who  was  supposed  to  be  under  the 
absolute  influence  of  his  Confessor,  and  chiefly  bent 
upon  bringing  France  back,  not  to  religion  in  its  true 
sense,  but  to  the  tyranny  of  ecclesiastical  authority 
before  the  "Great  Revolution,"  such  as  that  which 
could  excommunicate  any  citizen  of  Paris  if  he  did 
not  believe  in  the  infallibility  of  the  Pope,  or  the 
"  Bull  Unigenitus." 

Although  extremely  young  when  she  was  first 
married,  the  Duchesse  de  Berri  had  even  then  seen 
enough  of  political  strife  and  popular  resistance  in 
her  native  land  of  Italy  not  to  dread  the  consequences 
of  a  people's  discontent  with  regard  to  supposed 
bigotry  on  the  part  of  Royalty,  wherefore  it  was 
with  extreme  pleasure  that  in  the  year  1828,  just 
when  her  son  was  withdrawn  from  the  hands  of  his 
governess,  and  formally  consigned  into  those  repre- 
senting male  authority,  that  she  set  forth  on  a  tour 
through  various  localities,  significant  of  his  various 
titles,   in  order  to   visit  the    ancient   Chateau    de 


i82        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN    OF   FRANCE. 

CHAMBORD,  for  from  this  he  derived  one  of  his 
appellations  (the  Comte  de  Chambord),  and  it  had 
been  freely  presented  to  him  by  loyal  Frenchmen, 
who,  having  purchased  it,  declared  that  their  conduct 
in  this  matter  was  only  "to  do  homage  to  .S.  A.  R. 
Monseigneur  le  Due  de  Bordeatix." 

In  the  month  of  June,  1828,  the  Duchesse  de  Berri 
approached  Chambord  (which  is  situated  about  a 
hundred  miles  south  of  Paris,  on  a  plain  not  far 
from  Blois,  and  in  the  Department  of  the  Loire 
et  Cher),  and  with  her  advance  towards  the  Castle 
she  seemed  to  bring  sunshine  with  her,  for  a  storm 
had  only  just  before  darkened  the  atmosphere,  and 
this  having  passed  away,  all  nature  had  put  on  a 
joyous  air,  as  though  to  salute  her. 

Flowers  were  scattered  in  her  path,  and,  says  one 
of  her  then  attendant  friends,  "  Madame  "  was  much 
struck  by  the  imposing  aspect  of  the  Chateau,  for  the 
innumerable  domes  and  turrets  of  Chambord  give  to 
that  stately  residence  rather  the  air  of  a  royal  city 
than  a  feudal  palace.  Its  terraces  are  thrown  up- 
wards, "  like  graceful  crowns,"  upon  the  heights  of  the 
edifice.  It  was  built  by  Francis  I.,  and  upon  the 
turrets  of  this  palace  Catherine  de  Media's  was  wont 
to  study  the  stars,  according  to  her  strange  belief  in 
astrology ;  it  was  here  that  Louis  XIV.  dwelt  for  a 


DUCHESSES  UANGOULEME  AND  DE  BERRI.     183 

passing  time  with  his  gay  court,  and  a  legend  of  a 
spectre  huntsman  still  recalls  the  memory  of  Henri  IV. 
in  the  neighbourhood. 

The  Duchesse  de  Berri  approached  this  free  gift  to 
her  son,  of  once  feudal  France,  quite  unattended  by 
her  customary  guard  of  honour.  At  the  entrance  of 
the  Chateau  she  was  received  by  M.  le  Comte 
Adrienne  de  Calonne,  for  he  it  was  who  had  con- 
ceived and  carried  out  the  loyal  idea  of  causing 
Chambord  (which  since  the  time  of  the  Revolution 
had  passed  through  various  hands)  to  be  offered  to 
the  Due  de  Bordeaux,  and  by  him  an  address  was 
delivered  to  the  widowed  Princess  when  first  she  set 
her  small  foot  upon  the  threshold  of  that  "  Castle- 
keep,  rich  in  memories." 

Entering  the  antique  dwelling  of  Chambord,  she 
found  it  "  a  sort  of  colossal  history  of  past  ages," 
but  the  object  which  most  excited  her  wonder 
was  its  chief  staircase,  constructed  in  a  spiral  form 
and  in  such  a  way  that  persons  may  pass  in 
and  pass  up  and  down  it  within  sound  of  each 
other's  voices,  yet  beyond  the  range  of  view  one  of 
another. 

A  carved  Fleur  de  Lys  then  formed  the  highest 
point  of  this  castle,  and  the  Duchesse  de  Berri  having 
expressed   a   wish  to   ascend   to  this  altitude,   gazed 


1 84        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN    OF  FRANCE. 

from  it  with  rapture  on  the  magnificent  prospect  of 
France,  fair  and  fertile,  that  it  afforded. 

Descending  the  staircase,  on  her  way  down  from 
this  summit,  she  observed  various  names  of  historic 
interest  inscribed  on  its  walls. 

"  Ah !  "  she  exclaimed,  "  I  like  these  old  tokens ; " 
and  asking  for  some  sharp-pointed  instrument,  she 
forthwith  cut  with  it  upon  the  stone  the  words, — 
"  1 8  Juin.    Marie  Caroline!' '* 

The  Duchesse  de  Berri  did  not  return  to  Paris 
from  that  pilgrimage  of  hers  in  the  year  1828  until 
the  month  of  October,  for  during  it  she  visited  various 
localities  renowned  in  the  history  of  French  royalty, 
and  amongst  them  Pau,  the  birthplace  of  Henry  IV. 

Meantime  Charles  X.  had  made  a  progress  through 
the  east  of  his  kingdom,  and  when  at  last  they  met 
again  at  the  Tuileries,  neither  of  them  had  any  reason 
to  dread  the  change  of  fortune  awaiting  them,  for 
they  were  both  inspired  by  the  enthusiasm  which  had 
everywhere  greeted  them  in  the  provinces. 

*  By  a  curious  coincidence  of  dates,  it  was  on  the  18th  of  June,  1832, 
exactly  four  years  after  her  visit  to  the  Chateau  de  Chambord,  that 
Government  officials  arrived  at  that  feudal  palace  in  order  to  arrest  the 
Duchesse  de  Berri,  who  was  supposed  to  be  concealed  there.  It  is  also 
remarkable  that  her  son,  the  prince  who  derives  his  title  of  Chambord 
from  this  abode,  never  visited  it  until  the  recent  downfall  of  the  "  Second 
Empire  "  enabled  him,  after  long  exile,  to  do  so. 


DUCHESSES  DANGOULEME  AND  DE  BERRI.    185 

The  Comte  de  Chambord  had  not  accompanied  his 
mother  on  this  journey,  and  it  was  with  joy,  upon  her 
return  to  Paris,  she  noted  his  growth  and  improvement 
under  the  educational  regime  instituted  for  him ; 
whilst  a  feeling  of  just  maternal  pride  mingled  with 
that  joy  when  she  presented  him  to  some  of  her 
Neapolitan  relatives,  who  not  long  afterwards  visited 
the  capital  of  France. 

Political  discontent  amongst  various  parties  op- 
posed to  successive  Ministries,  there  always  had  been, 
more  or  less,  in  France  since  the  Restoration  ;  but, 
without  here  attempting  to  unfold  the  various  real  or 
fancied  causes  of  that  discontent,  it  need  only  be  said 
that  seldom  had  the  Duchesse  de  Berri  appeared 
more  beloved  by  the  French  people  than  when  the 
Revolution  of  1830  suddenly  proclaimed  itself. 

She  was  at  St.  Cloud  with  her  son,  when  during 
those  "three  July  memorable  days,"  familiar  to  most 
readers,  Paris  was  in  a  turbulent  state  of  anarchy,  and 
a  new  government  was  demanded  in  the  person  of 
Louis  Philippe,  Due  d'Orleans. 

The  Duchesse  d'Orleans  was  the  aunt  of  the 
Duchesse  de  Berri,  and  such  kindly  relations  had 
always  subsisted  between  these  two  Princesses  that, 
whatever  differences  may  have  occasionally  clouded 
the  political  horizon  around  them,  differences  which 


1 86        ILLUSTRIOUS    WOMEN   OF  FRANCE. 

made  the  King  suspicious  of  the  good  faith  of  his 
cousin  d'Orleans,  a  marriage  was  already  spoken  of 
as  some  day  to  take  place  betwixt  the  Due  de 
Chartres,  eldest  son  of  the  Due  d'Orleans,  and  the 
daughter  of  the  Duchesse  de  Berri. 

When  the  latter  heard  at  the  Chateau  of  St.  Cloud 
that,  by  the  sudden  revolution  in  favour  of  the  Due 
d'Orleans,  all  hope  for  her  own  son  was  fast  being 
lost,  she  implored  Charles  X.,  who  was  likewise 
at  St.  Cloud,  to  authorise  her  at  once  starting  for 
Paris  either  with  or  without  her  boy,  there  to  invoke 
the  people  in  his  behalf,  and  to  bring  them  back  to 
that  allegiance  from  which,  as  though  by  some  out- 
burst of  epidemic  madness,  they  had  swerved. 

But  the  King  would  not  sanction  her  so  doing.  Of 
timid,  though  obstinate,  policy  in  his  old  age,  he 
remembered  the  sanguinary  scenes  of  revolution  pre- 
ceding the  Reign  of  Terror  in  his  youth,  and  in  vain 
did  his  daughter-in-law,  the  Duchesse  de  Berri, 
represent  to  him  how  the  fickle  tide  of  popular 
favour  might  be  turned  in  favour  of  her  fatherless  son 
and  his  grandson,  if  only  he  would  allow  her  to  take 
one  of  his  own  royal  carriages,  which,  by  swiftly  con- 
veying her  to  Paris,  would  enable  her  to  face  the  mob. 

Her  entreaties  were  all  in  vain,  and,  condemned 
during  hours  of  increasingly  anxious  agony  to  wait 


DUCHESSES  D'ANGOULEME  AND  DE  BERRI.     187 

inactively  at  the  Chateau  of  St.  Cloud,  she  at  length 
there  planted  herself  at  one  of  its  upper  windows, 
through  which,  from  a  telescope,  she  could  perceive 
the  topmost  dome  of  the  Tuileries  gleaming  athwart 
the  clear  air  of  a  warm  summer  day.  Her  son  was 
near  her  as  she  knelt,  telescope  in  hand,  and  watched. 

The  King,  perhaps  almost  irritated  at  her  persistent 
courage,  was  doubtless  already  thinking  of  flight  as 
he  went  to  and  fro  through  the  salons  and  galleries  of 
St.  Cloud  ;  for  the  Due  d'Angouleme  had  gone  forth 
with  royal  troops,  and  his  messengers  brought  any- 
thing but  encouraging  reports  from  the  road  towards 
the  capital.  The  Duchesse  d'Angouleme  was,  so  to 
speak,  re-united  to  her  sister-in-law  under  the  force 
of  their  mutual  apprehension,  although  long  since  had 
she — the  elder  Princess — laid  all  her  former  hopes  of 
a  crown  at  the  foot  of  the  ever-present  Cross. 

Anxiously  the  Duchesse  de  Berri  watched  and 
watched,  until  at  last  the  telescope  fell  from  her  hand, 
as  she  exclaimed,  "  My  God  !  all  is  lost  !  "  For  in 
the  distance  she  had  beheld  the  tri-coloured  flag 
hoisted  in  place  of  that  of  the  Fleur-dc-Lys  ("  the 
Drapeau  blanc")  upon  the  topmost  height  of  the 
Tuileries. 

It  is  well  known  how  Charles  X.  at  once  fled  from 
St.  Cloud,  how  he  abdicated  in  favour  of  his  grand- 


1 88        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF   FRANCE. 

son,  and  how  his  cousin,  Louis  Philippe,  was  quickly- 
hailed  by  Paris  as  "King  of  the  French."  To  fly 
whilst  attempting  to  treat  with  one's  foes  is  generally 
bad  diplomacy,  but  yet  the  aged  monarch,  who  in 
his  youth  had  been  the  brilliant  and  chivalrous  Comte 
d'Artois  of  the  Court  of  Marie  Antoinette,  had  still  a 
grand  sense  of  dignity  left  in  him  when,  during  the 
course  of  his  continued  flight  towards  the  coast  of 
France,  the  standards  of  the  country  over  which  he 
had  reigned  were  presented  to  him  by  his  gardcs-dn- 
corps,  and  the  rest  of  his  military  escort,  who  were  then 
compelled  with  much  sorrow  to  take  leave  of  him. 

Said  the  fugitive  King,  "  These  standards  are 
untarnished,  and  I  hope  that  my  grandson  will  some 
day  restore  them,  spotless,  to  you.  My  friends,  I 
thank  you  for  your  fidelity  and  devotion,  and  never 
in  exile  shall  I  forget  the  proofs  of  attachment  which 
you  have  given  to  me."  * 

On  the  following  day,  August  16,  Charles  X.  and 
all  his  family  embarked  at  Cherbourg  on  board  an 
American  vessel,  for  England.  The  Duchesse  d'An- 
gouleme,  plunged  in  profound  melancholy  during  this 

*  Whatever  may  be  the  politics  of  the  reader  of  the  text  above,  who 
can  wonder  at  the  fact  of  the  Comte  de  Chambord  (for  that  prince 
himself  heard  the  words  here  quoted  as  they  fell  from  his  grandfather's 
lips)  clinging,  in  this,  our  own  day,  to  the  idea  of  the  "  Drapeau  Blanc," 
to  sustain  the  purity  of  which  his  ancestors  had  suffered  much  ? 


DUCHESSES  VANGOULEME  AND  DE  BERRI.     189 

journey  to  the  coast,  exclaimed,  from  time  to  time, 
"  What  a  reverse  !  "  But,  under  all  vicissitudes  of 
life,  she  evinced  resignation.  The  Duchesse  de  Berri 
clasped  her  fatherless  son  to  her  heart  with  passionate 
vehemence,  and  it  was  then,  perhaps,  whilst  her  tears 
flowed  for  his  sudden  loss  of  a  glorious  crown  which 
had  been  firmly  set  on  the  brows  of  his  heroic  ances- 
tors, that  she  secretly  resolved  to  win  it  back  for  him, 
if  she  could,  even  at  the  cost  of  her  own  life. 

Arrived  in  England,  the  various  members  of  the 
exiled  royal  family  of  France  first  found  a  refuge  in 
Dorsetshire,  but,  by  the  hospitality  of  his  Britannic 
Majesty,  they  soon  repaired  to  the  Castle  of  Holy- 
rood,  which  had  been  offered  to  them  as  a  resi- 
dence. 

The  Duchesse  d'Angouleme  there  interested  herself 
much  in  the  education  of  her  niece  and  nephew,  the 
children  of  the  Duchesse  de  Berri ;  but  the  mother  of 
those  children  herself  was  preparing  for  the  execution 
of  great  plans,  by  which  she  hoped  to  regain  the 
throne  of  France  for  her  son.  In  her  exile,  or  even 
perhaps  before  that  date,  she  had  met  again  the 
Comte  Lucchesi-Palli,  a  Neapolitan  nobleman,  who  is 
said  by  some  of  her  contemporaries  to  have  formed 
an  attachment  for  her  during  her  early  youth  in 
Sicily.     Be  this  as  it  may,  she,  after  more  than  ten 


190        ILLUSTRIOUS    WOMEN    OF   FRANCE. 

years  of  widowhood,  was  not  unmindful  of  his  devo- 
tion to  her ;  but  none  the  less  did  she  consecrate 
herself  to  the  cause  of  her  son,  whose  father  she  had 
loved  with  the  ardour  which  had  since  been  turned 
to  grief. 

She  was  a  woman  in  much  need  of  sympathy,  and 
she  believed  that  she  had  found  it,  though  not  in  one 
of  her  own  royal  rank  ;  but,  putting  aside  her  own 
personal  feelings  for  the  moment,  she  instigated  M.  le 
Due  de  Blacas,  the  long-tried  servant  of  the  Crown, 
to  act  as  ambassador  in  gaining  over  the  various 
Cabinets  of  Europe,  in  a  way  which  might  eventually 
lead  to  her  own  destruction. 

And  thus  it  came  to  pass  that,  contrary  to  the  will  of 
the  royal  exiles  at  Holyrood,  she  embarked  one  April 
night  of  the  year  1832,  on  her  way  to  Marseilles,  from 
which  place,  as  from  every  other  locality  in  France, 
she  was  forbidden  entrance  by  that  law  of  proscription 
which  had  exiled  her  and  her  family,  but  where  she 
knew  that  an  active  feeling  of  loyalty  was  rife  in 
behalf  of  her  son,  the  rightful  King  of  France  ;  since 
his  grandfather  had  abdicated  in  his  favour,  and  the 
Due  d'Angouleme  had  renounced  the  succession  to  the 
throne. 

Though  personally  disguised,  and  journeying  through 
various  perils  under  many  an  incognita,  she  carried  in 


DUCHESSES  UANGOULEME  AND  DE  BERRI.     191 

her  small  but  determined   hand  the  fiery  brand  of 
civil  war. 

Undaunted  by  first  failures,  uncomplaining  under 
terrible  privations,  in  constant  danger  as  to  her  life 
and  liberty,  corresponding  by  secret  agency  in  cyphers 
which,  being  written  in  white  ink,  sorely  tried  her 
eyes  to  read,  she  nevertheless  lit  up  in  La  Vendee  and 
elsewhere  a  glorious  enthusiasm  for  what  she  believed 
to  be  the  rightful  cause  of  France,  in  a  way  to  prove 
that  the  chivalry  of  France  was,  despite  all  revolutions, 
yet  ardently  alive. 

If  her  followers  suffered,  the  Duchesse  de  Berri, 
always  as  far  as  possible  in  the  midst  of  them,  suffered 
still  more ;  and,  not  discouraged  by  frequent  repulses, 
she  made  her  way  through  the  country  from  which 
she  was  banished  by  law,  and  in  Brittany  found  brave 
men  who  eagerly  armed  themselves  in  behalf  of 
"  Henri  V.,"  as  her  son  was,  and  still  is,  called  by 
French  royalists.  Such  increasing  faith  indeed  had 
this  Princess  in  the  loyalty  of  man — a  faith  which 
had  been  strengthened  by  her  residence  in  "  La 
Vendee,  the  incorruptible," — that  she  forgot  the  possi- 
bility of  treachery  lurking  near  her ;  and,  conse- 
quently, it  was  at  Nantes  that  she,  in  the  month  of 
November  1832,  was  at  length  captured. 

For  a  Jew  of  Colmar,  sometime  resident  at  Rome, 


192        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF  FRANCE. 

and  who  had  been  recommended  to  the  Duchesse  de 
Berri  by  the  Pope  as  a  convert  to  the  Romish  faith, 
found  means  to  penetrate  into  the  house  of  a  Made- 
moiselle Du  Guigni  at  Nantes,  where  the  disguised 
Princess  had  taken  refuge,  and  upon  the  7th  of 
November,  1832,  the  heroic  mother  of  the  Comte  de 
Chambord  found  that  she  was  betrayed. 

Her  immediate  followers  at  that  time  were  Messieurs 
de  Mesnard  and  Guibourg,  also  Mademoiselle  Stylite 
de  Kersabiec.  The  Duchesse  de  Berri  was  wearing 
the  dress  of  a  peasant,  and  her  attendants  were  like- 
wise travestied.  The  latter  had  dreaded  her  granting 
audience  to  the  converted  Jew,  whose  name  was 
Deutz ;  not  that  they  doubted  his  probity — coming 
as  he  did,  specially  recommended  to  her — but  because 
they  feared  that  he,  being  a  stranger  in  the  locality, 
would  draw  the  especial  attention  of  the  police  to  her 
dwelling,  by  his  visit. 

But,  as  says  one  of  the  friends  who  knew  and 
loved  her  well,  "  Madame  was  unsuspicious  as  loyalty 
itself,"  and  though  somewhat  reserved  in  her  first 
interview  with  Deutz,  he  contrived  so  to  insinuate 
himself  into  the  good  favour  of  a  pious  nun,  who  was 
in  the  daily  confidence  of  the  Duchesse  de  Berri,  and 
who  sincerely  believed  him  to  be  a  convert  to  "  the 
true  Faith,"  that   her  Royal    Highness  was  quickly 


DUCHESSES  UANGOULEME  AND  DE  BERRI.      193 

induced  to  admit  him  a  second  time  into  her  presence, 
and,  regarding  him  as  an  envoy  of  the  Pope,  whose 
good  favour  was  in  every  way  precious  to  her,  to 
confer  with  the  traitor  so  candidly  as  to  convince  him 
beyond  all  doubt  both  as  to  her  identity  and  the 
continuance  of  her  residence  in  the  house,  or  rather 
chateau,  where  first  he  had  found  her.  Whilst  she 
was  speaking  to  him  a  letter  in  cypher  was  brought 
to  her,  written  in  the  usual  white  ink ;  he  saw  her  wet 
this  despatch  with  some  chemical  preparation,  which 
looked  like  water,  and  perceived  how  her  countenance 
wore  an  air  of  concern  as  she  swiftly  read  the  words 
that  were  thus  revealed  to  her ;  but  so  far  above 
suspicion  was  the  character  of  this  Princess,  that  in  a 
moment  she  said  laughingly  to  him,  "  Deutz,  these 
lines  forewarn  me  that  I  shall  be  betrayed  by  some- 
body in  whom  I  place  confidence." 

But  the  wretch  only  replied,  "  Oh,  Madame,  your 
Royal  Highness  would  never  suspect  me  of  such 
infamy !  I,  who  have  given  so  many  pledges  of 
fidelity  and  devotion  to  Madame  !  " 

She  did  not  suspect  him ;  and,  immediately  after- 
wards, he  went  forth  from  her  presence  and  betrayed 
her,  first  to  the  civil,  and  afterwards  to  the  military 
authorities  of  the  place. 

General  Dermoncourt  was  just  then  in  Government 


194        ILLUSTRIOUS    WOMEN   OF  FRANCE. 

command  of  the  military  forces  in  that  locality,  and 
therefore  it  eventually  became  his  painful  task  to 
arrest  the  Duchesse  de  Bern,  as  is  now  about  to  be 
seen. 

By  six  o'clock  that  November  evening,  troops  sur- 
rounded the  abode  where  she  still  believed  herself  to 
be  safe.  Two  battalions,  divided  into  three  columns 
of  armed  men,  had  already  cut  off  all  possibility  of 
escape  ;  but  "  Madame,"  as  her  devoted  adherents 
ordinarily  called  her,  was  quite  unconscious  of  imme- 
diate danger.  She  was  sitting  in  an  upper  apartment 
of  the  chateau,  where,  thanks  to  loyal  friends,  she  be- 
lieved herself  to  be  safe,  and  was  talking  pleasantly 
to  those  about  her  of  the  calmness  of  the  cold  atmo- 
sphere, and  of  the  singular  effects  produced  by  the 
clear  moonlight  in  reflecting  various  objects  upon 
which  it  shone.  M.  de  Guibourg,  who  was  listening 
to  her  remarks,  came  forward  to  look  out  of  window 
upon  the  objects  to  which  they  referred ;  when  sud- 
denly he  stepped  back,  exclaiming  in  a  voice  of  alarm, 
"  Save  yourself,  Madame,  save  yourself ! "  For,  by 
the  light  of  the  moon,  he  had  beheld  bayonets 
gleaming,  as  the  third  column  of  soldiers,  led  on  by 
Colonel  Simon  Lorriere,  was  advancing  towards  the 
chateau. 

Swiftly,  though  without  any  cry  or  sign  of  terror, 


DUCHESSES  DANGOULEME  AND  DE  BERRI.     195 

the  Duchesse  de  Berri  sprang  up  and  darted  forth 
upon  the  staircase.     Her  attendants  did  the  same. 

In  a  garret  of  the  house  there  was  a  sort  of  cup- 
board, four  feet  long  and  not  much  more  than 
eighteen  inches  wide,  the  door  of  which  was  concealed 
in  the  wall  ;  and  towards  this  narrow  retreat  the 
Princess  and  her  followers  rapidly  made  their  way. 

Together  they  mounted  the  stairs  leading  to  it, 
and,  according  to  a  sign  made  by  Madame,  Monsieur 
Mesnard  and  Monsieur  Guibourg  were  the  first  to 
enter  ;  but  Mademoiselle  Stylite  de  Kersabiac  hesi- 
tated as  to  taking  precedence,  even  at  that  moment, 
of  her  royal  mistress ;  whereupon  the  latter  laughed, 
saying,  "Go  in,  dear  Stylite,  for  by  good  stratagem 
we  are  taught  that  in  a  retreat  the  commander 
marches  last." 

There  was  not  an  instant  to  lose ;  the  doors  of 
the  house  opening  upon  the  street  were  being  broken 
open,  and  the  noise  of  their  fall  resounded  upward 
as  Mademoiselle  Stylite  entered  the  narrow  hiding- 
place,  and  the  Duchesse  de  Berri  quickly  followed 
her  into  it,  closing  the  panel  which  concealed  it 
behind  her. 

It  was  almost  impossible  for  either  M.  de  Mesnard 
or  Ms  de  Guibourg  to  stand  upright  in  so  small  a 
space,  and   even   Madame   and    her  lady  attendant, 


196        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF  FRANCE. 

though  of  shorter  stature,  were  compelled  to  adopt 
cramped  positions.  They  heard  the  tramp  of  armed 
men  coming  higher  and  higher,  nearer  and  nearer ; 
they  heard  the  hammers  of  a  troop  of  masons  sound- 
ing every  wall  of  the  building,  and  breaking  into 
every  room  ;  they  heard  these  men  pass  through  the 
garret  contiguous  to  their  caclictte,  and  ascend  to  the 
top  of  the  house,  there  to  continue  their  demolishing 
work  of  inspection  ;  they  heard  the  oaths  of  soldiers, 
and  the  asseverations  of  police  commissioners,  each 
one  of  whom  was  armed  with  a  pistol. 

Sentinels  were  placed  in  every  room,  and  two  gen- 
darmes were  made  to  occupy  the  apartment  close  to 
the  place  where  the  Duchesse  de  Berri  and  her 
companions  were  concealed,  the  panelled  and  as  yet 
unsuspected  door,  which  opened  from  the  inside, 
alone  screening  them.  The  night  wore  on ;  it  was 
bitterly  cold.  In  the  fruitless  search  for  her  upon  the 
roof  of  the  house,  bricks  and  mortar  had  been 
loosened  just  above  the  spot  where  the  Princess  found 
herself  caged  in.  She  shivered,  not  from  fear,  but 
from  cold ;  yet  her  first  thought  was  that  of  regret 
for  the  discomfort  to  which  the  loyalty  of  her  fellow 
sufferers  had  exposed  them.  She,  having  entered  last, 
was  nearest  to  the  closed  panel  of  the  cackette,  and 
could  distinctly  hear  every  word  uttered  by  the  gen- 


DUCHESSES  UANGOULEME  AND  DE  BERRL     197 

darmes  on  the  other  side  of  it ;  these  two  men  often 
complained  to  each  other  of  the  freezing  atmosphere, 
and  presently,  having  found  materials  for  a  fire,  they 
proceeded  to  light  one  in  the  large  stove,  which  was 
immediately  behind  the  hiding-place  of  Madame. 

She  and  her  companions  were  at  first  thankful  for 
the  warmth  which  quickly  pervaded  their  retreat,  for 
their  limbs  were  not  only  cramped  but  nearly  frozen  ; 
but  soon  they  had  reason  to  fear  that  their  cachette 
was  likely  to  act  as  an  oven  to  the  stove  close  by  it, 
for  the  more  the  fire  burnt,  the  more  and  more  hot, 
even  to  suffocation,  became  the  small  space  where 
they  were  concealed. 

Air  could  only  reach  them  through  the  chinks  pre- 
viously made  by  the  masons  during  their  rough  search 
on  the  roof,  and  trying  to  look  up  to  these  apertures, 
the  Princess  and  her  adherents  gasped  for  breath, 
although  afraid  of  uttering  the  slightest  sound  which 
might  betray  them.  At  last  came  a  short  respite, 
for,  from  certain  sounds,  it  seemed  that  one  of  the 
gendarmes  had  fallen  asleep  by  the  fire,  whilst  the 
other  paced  up  and  down  on  duty,  and  gradually  the 
terrible  heat  decreased.  The  hours  of  the  night,  heard 
pealing  from  church  steeples,  slowly  succeeded  each 
other,  until  at  early  morning  time  the  moment  had 
come  for  the  gendarmes  to  change  places  with  each 


198        ILLUSTRIOUS    WOMEN   OF  FRANCE. 

other,  and  then  it  was  that  the  one  just  awakened, 
finding  that  the  fire  had  burnt  low,  threw  upon  it  a 
quantity  of  old  newspapers  ("  Quotidiennes ")  which 
had  been  heaped  up  in  the  corner  of  the  room,  and 
this  with  such  effect  that  the  flames  leapt  up,  and 
the  prisoners,  invisible  but  close  at  hand,  soon  found 
themselves  in  danger  of  being  burnt  to  death. 

Just  then  the  search  for  them  upon  the  roof  was 
renewed,  but  through  the  gaps  upon  it  came  smoke 
and  flame  from  the  fire,  whilst  the  loud  sounds  of 
falling  masonry  convinced  the  Duchesse  de  Berri  that 
if  not  burnt  she  must  be  crushed  to  death. 

Twice  her  clothes  caught  fire,  and  her  hands  were 
scorched  by  putting  it  out.  The  smoke  was  dense  to 
suffocation ;  the  heavy  blows  of  iron  bars,  wielded 
by  the  workmen  above  in  the  work  of  destruction, 
came  nearer  and  nearer  over  her  head  ;  the  door  or 
panel  against  which  she  crouched  was  lined  with 
metal,  and  this  having  become  red-hot,  she  began  to 
be  in  bodily  agony,  although  refusing  to  change 
places  with  any  one  of  her  fellow-prisoners. 

Outside,  the  soldiers  had  continued  to  pile  up  the 
newspapers  on  the  fire,  and  the  more  they  did  so,  the 
more  leapt  the  flames  into  the  cacJiette  adjoining ;  but 
all  at  once  the  attention  of  the  gendarmes  was  caught 
by  the  sound  of  a  click  or  scratch  close  to  them,  for 


DUCHESSES  DANGOULEME  AND  DE  BERRI.     199 

in  her  terrible  anxiety  to  render  assistance  to  her 
royal  mistress,  Mademoiselle  de  Stylite,  who  occu- 
pied the  place  next  to  her,  had  struck  against  the 
heated  panel  from  within. 

"  Rats  !  rats  !  "  cried  the  gendarmes,  who,  not  being 
able  to  perceive  from  whence  the  sound  came,  be- 
lieved that  the  workmen  on  the  roof  had  dislodged 
rats,  and  thinking  also  that  the  latter  might  have 
taken  refuge  in  the  chimney,  they  began  to  probe  it 
with  their  bayonets  in  a  way  not  only  to  stimulate 
the  fire,  but  to  increase  the  peril  of  those  who  were 
close  within  its  reach. 

It  was  about  half-past  nine  in  the  morning,  when 
again  came  a  strange  noise  from  some  place  invisible 
to  the  two  gendarmes. 

"  Who  is  there  ? "  cried  one  of  them. 

And  it  was  the  voice  of  Mademoiselle  Stylite  de 
Kersabiac  which  replied, — 

"  We  surrender.  We  are  about  to  open  the  door : 
put  out  the  fire." 

Immediately  afterwards,  the  concealed  door  of 
that  burning  prison  cell  was  opened  from  within,  and 
forth  from  it  first  issued  the  Duchesse  de  Bern.  Her 
dress — a  simple  Neapolitan  brown  peasant  dress — 
was  in  tatters  from  recent  burning  ;  her  hands,  the 
beauty  of  which  courtiers  had  once  praised  and  poets 


200        ILLUSTRIOUS    WOMEN   OF   FRANCE. 

had  sung,  were  disfigured  by  their  having  clutched  in 
agony  at  that  dress  ;  her  fair  hair  was  disordered  and 
singed,  and  her  feet,  clad  in  a  tiny  pair  of  slippers, 
had  to  suffer  fresh  pain  from  the  necessity  of  crossing 
the  surface  of  hot  metal  in  her  egress.  But  she 
uttered  no  murmur,  and  only  said  to  one  of  the 
astounded  gendarmes  before  her,  "  Go,  summon  your 
General." 

General  Dermoncourt  was  in  the  house  below,  and 
when  he  appeared  before  the  Princess,  she  said  to 
him, — 

"  General,  I  surrender  myself  to  you,  and  trust  to 
your  loyalty." 

"  Madame,"  he  respectfully  answered,  "  your  Royal 
Highness  is  under  the  guard  of  French  honour." 

He  courteously  conducted  her  to  a  resting-place 
in  one  of  the  lower  rooms,  when,  in  a  voice  of  emotion, 
yet  proud  in  tone,  she  added, — 

"  General,  I  have  fulfilled  the  duty  of  a  mother 
who  desired  to  re-conquer  the  inheritance  of  her 
son." 

Concerning  those  who  had  just  passed  sixteen 
hours  of  voluntary  imprisonment  with  her,  she  mani- 
fested much  solicitude,  and  when  at  a  later  time  of 
the  day  it  was  intimated  to  her  that  she  must  be  led 
forth  to  captivity  in  the  Fortress  of  Blaye,  they  en- 


DUCHESSES  HANGOULEME  AND  DE  BERRI.     201 

treated  not  to  be  separated  from  her.  The  request 
was  granted  for  a  time  at  least,  and  it  was  with  many 
expressions  of  gratitude  on  the  part  of  Madame  to- 
wards the  loyal  owners  of  the  house  (Mademoiselle 
Duguigny  and  her  sister)  where  for  five  months  she 
had  found  a  refuge,  that  her  Royal  Highness  now 
prepared  to  leave  it. 

Military  troops  still  surrounded  the  dwelling,  and 
the  whole  populace  of  Nantes  was  in  a  frantic  state 
of  excitement,  but  the  departure  of  the  Princess  on 
her  way  to  prison  was  effected  so  quietly  that  scarcely 
anybody  but  those  immediately  about  her  was  aware 
of  it ;  for  as  General  Dermoncourt  apprehended  diffi- 
culty in  procuring  a  carriage,  she  herself  caused  a 
mantle  to  be  thrown  over  her,  and  then,  when  the 
moment  for  starting  had  come,  she  took  the  General's 
arm,  and  proposed  to  issue  forth  on  foot,  merely 
saying  to  her  followers,  "My  friends,  let  us  start." 
General  Dermoncourt  did  not  regard  this  action  as 
the  least  heroic  on  the  part  of  the  royal  woman 
whom  it  was  his  painful  duty  to  capture,  for  he  knew 
that  she  was  still  suffering  fearfully,  although  helping 
him  thus  in  the  performance  of  that  duty. 

.She  uttered  no  word  of  complaint,  quite  the  con- 
trary ;  for  when,  arm-in-arm,  they  were  about  to 
descend  the  staircase,  on  their  passage  out,  she  cast  a 


202        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF  FRANCE. 

last  upward  look  towards  her  recent  hiding-place,  and 
laughingly  said — 

"  Ah,  General  !  if  you  had  not  made  war  against 
me  in  the  style  of  St.  Lawrence "  (the  martyr  who 
was  fried  on  a  gridiron),  "  I  should  not  now  be  leaning 
upon  you  for  support." 

The  citadel  of  Blaye  was  soon  reached,  and  within 
its  walls  the  Duchesse  de  Berri  found  herself  a 
prisoner.  Her  conduct  was  as  undaunted  by  dreary 
captivity  as  it  had  '  been  in  face  of  death,  and 
under  the  various  vicissitudes  which  had  befallen  her. 
But,  though  a  heroine,  she  was  "woman  in  spite  of 
herself;"  for,  in  the  course  of  some  months,  it  was 
intimated  to  the  world  .  at  large,  by  means  of  a  letter 
published  in  the  Mouiteur,  but  dated  from  her  prison, 
and  signed  by  her  name,  that  she  had  for  some  time 
past  been  privately  married  to  Count  Lucchesi  Palli, 
and  that  she  was  about  to  become  a  mother. 

In  these  pages  it  has  been  already  intimated  how 
the  Count,  a  Neapolitan  nobleman,  and  son  of  the 
Prince  Lucchesi  Palli,  had  loved  her,  ere  yet  she 
became  the  bride  of  the  Due  de  Berri,  and  at  a  time 
when,  by  the  fact  of  her  royal  rank,  he  dared  not 
proclaim  his  love.  It  has  been  here  also  hinted  how, 
after  the  abdication  of  Charles  X.,  and  when  she,  a 
woman,  a  mother,   and  a  widow,   was   consequently 


DUCHESSES  DANGOULEME  AND  DE  BERRI.     203 

driven  forth  from  France  into  exile,  he  sought  and 
found  her ;  and  that  then,  much  needing  sympathy, 
she  found  it  in  the  heart  of  this,  her  countryman,  and 
the  lover  of  her  youth.  Her  girlhood  had  long  since 
fled  ;  she  was  the  mother  of  two  royal  children,  the 
younger  of  whom  had  recently  become,  by  the  abdi- 
cation of  his  grandfather  in  his  favour,  rightful  King 
of  France.  She  had  been  ten  years  the  widow  of 
the  Due  de  Berri,  whom  she  had  passionately  loved, 
and  earnestly  lamented  ;  personally,  for  her,  nothing 
but  memories  remained  ;  but,  in  years,  she  was  still 
but  a  young  woman  ;  her  son  and  daughter  were,  so 
to  speak,  "taken  possession  of"  by  their  grandfather 
and  aunt,  the  Duchesse  d'Angouleme. 

Was  the  Duchesse  de  Berri,  therefore,  so  much  to 
blame  because  her  much-stricken  woman's  heart  re- 
opened itself  to  receive  the  love  of  the  man  who  from 
a  distance  had  watched  her  whole  career,  and — 
having  not  only  watched,  but  admired — came  to  her 
v  in  her  misfortune  and  implored  her  to  link  her  fate 
with  his  ? 

Upon  this  point,  human  nature  answers  "No." 
But  royal  prejudice  was  probably  of  a  different 
opinion,  although  it  must  here  still  further  be  re- 
marked that  all  which  the  mother  of  the  Comte  de 
Chambord   (Henri  V.)   had  suffered  for  the  cause  of 


204        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN    OF   FRANCE. 

French  royalty  embodied  in  the  person  of  her  son, 
derives  fresh  lustre  when  it  is  remembered  that  at  the 
very  time  she  was  courageously  facing  death  in  La 
Vendee — at  the  very  moment  when  she  was  self- 
exposed  to  all  sorts  of  tortures  at  Nantes,  her  own 
life  had  become  of  fresh  value  to  her,  for  the  life  of 
such  a  woman  is — love/ 

Politically,  she  had  done  as  she  supposed  that  her 
murdered  husband,  the  Due  de  Berri,  would  have 
done  under  the  same  circumstances  ;  and  in  so  doing, 
she  had  peformed  an  act  of  self-consecration  to  his 
memory,  which  occupied  a  tender  place  in  her  heart. 
As  though  determined  not  to  take  her  own  life  and 
happiness  into  her  own  hands  until  she  had,  at  all 
costs,  done  her  last  duty  to  him,  she  had,  under  all 
perils,  re-entered  France  in  favour  of  his  son.  But 
now,  there  was  nothing  more  to  do,  for  France  re- 
fused to  recognise  her  son  as  King,  and  she  was 
languishing  in  prison.  So  she  proclaimed  her  wo- 
manly secret,  and  was  forthwith  liberated  from  the 
citadel  of  Blaye,  though  not  to  go  back  to  her  royal 
relatives  at  Holy  rood,  for  she  turned  her  face  towards 
Sicily,  where  a  home  and  her  husband  awaited  her. 
It  was  upon  the  8th  day  of  June,  1833,  that  she  went 
forth  from  Blaye,  and  in  twenty-four  days  afterwards 
she  again  set  foot  upon  her  native  land,  which,  since 


DUCHESSES  D'ANGOULEME  AND  DE  BERRI.     205 

seventeen  years  of  some  joy,  but  much  sorrow,  she 
had  not  seen. 

Henceforth,  her  royal  son,  the  Comte  de  Chambord, 
was  under  the  direction  of  his  grandfather,  Charles  X., 
and  that  of  his  uncle  and  aunt,  the  Due  and  Duchesse 
d'Angouleme.  Voluntarily,  the  Due  d'Augouleme  (or 
Dauphin,  as  he  was  called)  had  renounced  all  claims 
to  the  throne  upon  the  abdication  of  his  father  in  1830, 
and  long  since  had  the  Duchesse  d'Angouleme  (or 
Dauphiness,  as  she  was  called)  resigned  all  hope  of 
becoming  Queen  Consort  of  France,  for  it  was  to  the 
service  of  the  Cross  and  not  to  that  of  any  earthly 
crown  that  she  devoted  herself. 

But  the  traditions  of  her  ancestors  were  precious  to 
her,  even  as  a  part  of  her  religion,  and  from  her 
lips  the  then  young  Comte  de  Chambord  doubtless 
learnt  to  regard  the  "  Drapeau  Blanc,"  the  white  flag 
of  the  Fleur-de-Lys,  as  appertaining  to  the  traditions 
of  the  faith  inculcated  by  her. 

The  air  of  Holyrood  was  too  keen  for  the  Duchesse 
d'Angouleme,  and,  after  the  marriage  of  the  Duchesse 
de  Berri  with  Comte  Lucchesi  Palli,  the  exiled  royal 
family  of  France,  long  resident  in  Scotland,  travelled 
much  on  the  continent,  residing  successively  at 
Vienna,  Prague,  and  Goritz. 

At  the  last-named  place  died  Charles  X.,  in  1836, 


206        ILLUSTRIOUS    WOMEN   OF   FRANCE. 

and  that  venerable  monarch,  who  was  born  at  Ver- 
sailles ere  yet  the  preceding  century  had  grown  old, 
lies  buried  in  the  vaults  of  the  convent  of  the 
Franciscans,  situated  on  the  woodland  heights  of 
Goritz.  His  death  was  a  fresh  source  of  sorrow  to 
the  Duchesse  d'Angouleme,  who,  in  exile,  had  been 
to  him  a  daughter  of  consolation ;  and  in  the  month 
of  February,  1844,  she  was  stricken  by  a  fresh  grief, 
for  she  knew  then  that  the  husband  of  her  youth, 
the  playmate  of  her  childhood,  the  companion  of  her 
advanced  life  and  exile,  was  about  to  be  taken  from 
her. 

The  Due  d'Angouleme,  always  an  ascetic  from  his 
early  manhood,  had  suffered  much  from  attacks  of 
illness  which,  though  accompanied  by  acute  pain,  he 
had  borne  with  the  patience  which  had  always  charac- 
terised him. 

In  the  years  long  past  his  illustrious  consort  may 
have  had  cause  to  regret — for  have  not  all  lives  their  in- 
subordinate moments  ? — her  act  of  obedience  to  the  will 
of  her  martyred  parents,  in  becoming  his  wife — mo- 
ments when,  in  memory,  she  looked  back  with  a  yearn- 
ing of  womanly  regret  to  the  love  of  her  other  cousin, 
the  Archduke  Charles,  who  had  in  vain  sought  to  win 
her  for  his  bride  during  her  sojourn  at  Vienna,  after 
her  release  from  the  prison  of  the  Temple. 


DUCHESSES  DANGOULEME  AND  DE  BERRL     207 

But  that  regret,  if  it  ever  existed,  had  long  since 
been  "lived  down,"  and  during  the  many  years  of 
sorrow  and  proscription  which  she  had  passed  with 
her  husband  during  both  the  earlier  and  the  later 
period  of  their  married  life,  she  had  been  his  de- 
voted companion.  Their  sentiments  were  identical 
respecting  the  religion  of  their  forefathers,  and  it  was 
by  mutual  consent  that  they  had  renounced  the  crown 
of  France  in  favour  of  their  nephew,  the  Comte  de 
Chambord. 

The  last  illness  of  the  Due  d'Angouleme  began  on 
Ash  Wednesday,  1844,  and  as  one  result  of  his  mala- 
dies was  to  make  him  almost  blind,  the  voice  most 
necessary  to  him,  either  in  speaking  or  reading,  was 
that  of  his  wife.  The  room  he  ordinarily  occupied 
was  more  like  the  cell  of  a  monk  than  the  chamber  of 
a  Prince,  but  when  enabled,  as  the  Spring  returned,  to 
be  removed  into  the  open  air,  he  rejoiced,  despite  his 
own  fast-declining  strength,  in  the  sights,  and  sounds, 
and  scents  of  reviving  nature.  Upon  Trinity  Sunday 
in  that  year  he  was  released  from  his  sufferings,  and 
the  Duchesse  d'Angouleme  became  a  widow. 

"  With  her  arms  outspread,  she  hurried  into  the 
still  chamber  where  he  lay— he  who  should  have 
worn  a  crown  and  died  a  King.  She  flung  herself  at 
his  feet,  and  of  those  who  crowded   in  around  her,  she 


208        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN    OF    FRANCE. 

urgently  asked  for  prayer.  The  usual  prayers  were 
recited,  ....  and  when  the  officiating  priest 
uttered  the  closing  deep  Amen,  all  there  looked  upon 
the  face  of  the  Prince,  and  they  saw  that  he  was 
dead.  The  Duchesse  d'Angouleme  turned  from 
gazing  at  this  sad  sight  to  raise  her  hands  to  Heaven, 
as  if  to  express  her  willingness,  for  Heaven's  sake, 
to  offer  up  this  one  more  sacrifice.  She  then  gently 
bent  down,  and,  taking  the  now  unconscious  hand  of 
her  husband,  kissed  it  repeatedly,  bathing  it  with  her 
tears.  That  hand  had  rested  in  hers  more  than 
half-a-century  before  in  the  gay  galleries  of  Ver- 
sailles  Versailles    and    Goritz !      Those 

two  words  express  two  great  extremes,"  and  between 
them,  for  the  Duchesse  d'Angouleme,  there  had  been 
a  lifetime  of  tribulation. 

The  Comte  de  Chambord  and  his  sister,  "the 
children  of  France,"  were  near  their  aunt,  the 
Duchesse  d'Angouleme,  at  the  time  of  this  her  new 
and  irreparable  sorrow  ;  she  took  their  hands  within 
her  own,  and  they,  too,  rendered  homage  to  the  dead. 

The  Due  d'Angouleme  was  buried  by  the  side  of 
his  father,  in  the  Franciscan  convent,  upon  the 
heights  above  Goritz,  and,  not  long  afterwards,  his 
widow  repaired  with  her  nephew  and  niece  to 
Frohsdorf. 


DUCHESSES  DANGOULEME  AND  DE  BERRI.     209 

A  purchase  had  been  made  of  the  chateau  and 
domain  of  Frohsdorf  (about  a  dozen  leagues  from 
Vienna)  by  the  Duchesse  d'Angouleme,  in  the  name 
of  the  Due  de  Blacas,  that  well-known  devoted  ad- 
herent to  the  royal  cause  of  France. 

The  chateau  of  Frohsdorf  is  nothing  more  than 
a  plain,  white  country  house,  the  pointed  roof  of  which 
is  pierced  by  windows.  Those  most  familiar  with  it 
describe  it  as  a  building  two  stories  high,  each  storey 
presenting  nine  windows  of  a  row,  the  centre  one, 
over  the  chief  entrance,  having  a  balcony  in  front 
of  it,  flanked  by  pilasters.  On  the  western  side  of 
the  chateau  is  a  tower,  the  base  of  which  is  in  the 
fosse,  or  moat.  An  unbroken  plain  extends  towards 
the  west,  "  reaching  to  the  foot  of  the  mountain 
chain  which  divides  Styria  from  the  Archduchy  of 
Austria,  and  which  unites  the  Styrian  Alps  with  the 
Carpathian  range." 

In  this  abode  the  widowed  daughter  of  Louis  XVI. 
and  Marie  Antoinette  occupied  herself  in  works  of 
charity ;  but  by  her  nephew,  by  her  household,  and  by 
French  royalists  who,  from  time  to  time,  made  pil- 
grimages of  devotion  to  this,  her  far-off  home,  she 
was  always  treated  with  the  etiquette  due  to  a  Queen- 

These  pilgrimages  had  long  existed,  for  when 
Charles    X.    was   still    alive,    the   celebrated    French 


210        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF  FRANCE. 

author,  Chateaubriand,  performed  one  in  order  to 
pay  his  respects  to  his  exiled  Majesty  at  Prague,  and 
it  was  there  that  he  beheld  the  Comte  de  Chambord 
— then  a  boy — and  his  sister,  who,  says  he,  "  looked 
like  two  young  gazelles  lying  in  concealment  amidst 
some  old  ruin." 

The  Duchesse  d'Angouleme  survived  to  see  this 
Prince  and  Princess  become  man  and  woman.  The 
latter  was  wedded  to  the  Duke  of  Parma,  and  there 
are  not  a  few  who  at  this  day  still  have  cause  to 
mourn  her  death,  which  occurred  in  1863;  for  she 
was  singularly  fascinating,  amiable  and  accomplished. 

The  Comte  de  Chambord  (or  Henri  V.,  as  French 
royalists  call  him)  in  due  time  introduced  the  Duke 
of  Modena's  daughter  as  a  bride  at  Frohsdorf,  and 
by  their  united  affection  the  last  days  of  his  aunt,  the 
Duchesse  d'Angouleme,  were  soothed. 

Upon  the  13th  of  October,  185  1,  that  last-named 
Princess  fainted  whilst  at  Mass.  She  rallied  after- 
wards, but  she  knew  that  her  last  hour  was  at  hand, 
and  she  prepared  for  it  with  courage  and  calmness. 
The  1 6th  of  that  month  was  the  anniversary  of  her 
mother's  execution,  and  upon  that  day  her  strength 
rapidly  declined  ;  and  still  holding  her  nephew's  hand 
to  the  last,  she,  whose  birth  had  been  so  rapturous!  y 
hailed  at  Versailles,  looked  round  upon  those  about  her 


DUCHESSES  UANGOUL&ME  AND  DE  BERRI.     21  r 

in  token  of  a  mute,  though  eloquent  farewell.  By- 
other  chroniclers,  to  whom  thanks  are  here  due,  it 
has  been  stated  that  at  the  head  of  her  bed  hung  a 
picture  of  "  the  Angel  of  Consolation  showing  to 
Louis  XVI.  the  splendour  of  celestial  glory,"  and 
when  the  priest  in  attendance  upon  the  exiled  and 
dying  Princess  pointed  to  this  picture  all  present 
responded  in  their  hearts  to  the  words,  "  Daughter  of 
St.  Louis,  ascend  to  heaven." 

The  Duchesse  d'Angouleme,  ex-Dauphiness  of 
France,  was  buried  by  the  side  of  her  husband  and  his 
father,  upon  the  heights  of  Goritz. 

The  Duchesse  de  Bern,  although  with  no  longer 
any  political  part  to  play  in  the  world  for  the  sake 
of  her  royal  son,  was  a  welcome  guest  to  the  pro- 
scribed King  of  France  and  those  around  him  when- 
ever it  pleased  her  to  issue  forth  from  the  comparative 
seclusion  of  her  henceforth  private  life,  to  visit  either 
of  the  various  stations  of  their  exile.  She  survived 
until  a  very  few  years  since,  and  many  there  are  who 
have  reason  to  bless  her  memory ;  for,  to  the  last,  she 
was  a  liberal  patroness  of  art,  and  the  noble-minded 
friend  of  misfortune  in  need  of  an  advocate. 

To  her  four  children  by  her  union  with  the  Comte 
Lucchesi  Palli,  the  Comtc  de  Chambord  has  mani- 
fested much  brotherly  affection  ;  and,  strange  to  say 


212        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF   FRANCE. 

it  was  not  until  the  Revolution  of  1870  enabled  that 
Prince  to  re-enter  France — after  the  downfall  of 
Napoleon  III.,  and  after  an  exile  of  forty  years  from 
the  land  over  which,  by  inheritance,  he  is  King, — 
that  (as  herebefore  said),  he  beheld  the  Chateau  de 
Chambord,  from  which  he  derives  his  title,  now  most 
familiar  to  the  world  at  large,  and  of  which  his  heroic 
mother  took  possession  in  his  name.  It  may  here  be 
added  that,  after  the  Revolution  of  1830,  this  antique 
chateau  fell  into  a  ruined  state  ;  and  also  that  the 
glorious  heights  near  the  exile-home  of  its  royal 
owner  are  perpetually  crowned  with  untrodden  snow, 
glistening  like  the  untarnished  banner  of  the  Fleur 
de  lys. 


QUEEN     MARIE    AMELIE 


AND    THE 


DUCHESS     OF     ORLEANS 

(GRANDMOTHER  AND  MOTHER  OF  THE  COUNT  DE   PARIS/. 


OL'EEN    MARIE   AMELIE. 


QUEEN  MARIE  AMELIE  AND 
THE  DUCHESS   OE  ORLEANS. 


^»foj|,  T  was  Lady  Hamilton,  the  notoriously- 
fascinating  wife  of  the  English  Am- 
bassador at  Naples,  who,  in  1798, 
first  announced  to  Caroline,  then 
Queen  of  that  country,  the  recent 
victory  which  Nelson  had  won  over 
Bonaparte. 

With  great  joy  the  Queen  received 
this  news,  for  she  was  a  sister  of  the 

martyred  Marie  Antoinette  of  France, 
1 

and,  though  still  bound  to  the  last- 
named  country  by  political  treaties  of  neutrality, 
she  abhorred  the  land  stained  by  the  blood  of  her 
own  race,  and  instantly  prepared  to  welcome  Nelson 
as  "  the  Saviour  of  Italy,"  and  the  avenger  of  royal 
right  against  republican  might. 

Thrones,  even  that   of  the   Pope,  were  just  then 
either  tottering  or  overturned.     Bonaparte,  of  bound- 


216        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN    OF  FRANCE. 

less  ambition,  had  declared  all  Europe  to  be  but  a 
mole-hill,  and  that  there  had  never  been  any  great 
empires  but  in  the  East ;  yet,  at  last,  he  had  found 
more  than  a  match  for  him  in  the  great  game  he 
played,  for  "  upon  that  gigantic  chess-board  of  the 
Nile,  where  pawns  are  obelisks, — castles,  pyramids, — 
knights,  sphinxes, — where  bishops  call  themselves 
Cambyses, — kings,  Sesostris, — and  queens,  Cleopatra, 
he  had  been  checkmated." 

In  spite  of  all  still-existing  treaties  with  France,  a 
glorious  reception  awaited  Nelson  at  Naples.  Bells 
rang,  cannon  roared ;  the  King  and  Queen,  in  a 
splendidly  ornamented  galley,  followed  by  various 
smaller  vessels,  all  gaily  ornamented,  sailed  forth  to 
meet  him. 

Upon  the  deck  of  the  galley  were  their  Neapolitan 
Majesties,  surrounded  by  their  children — such  of  them 
as  were  already  past  childhood.  The  most  illustrious 
members  of  their  Court  were  there  ;  but  most  con- 
spicuous in  the  midst  of  this  brilliant  group  were  the 
Queen  and  Lady  Hamilton. 

The  former  was  still  handsome  ;  and,  on  this 
occasion,  she  was  gorgeously  arrayed.  She, 
Queen  Caroline,  much  resembled  her  late  sister, 
Queen  Marie  Antoinette  of  France,  in  form  and 
feature,  but  it  was  an  intellectual   if  not  hardened 


MARIE  AMELIE  AND  DUCHESS  OF  ORLEANS.  217 

resemblance.  Her  fair  hair,  the  still  golden  hue  of 
which  gleamed  through  the  powder  then  worn,  her 
blue  eyes,  which,  notwithstanding  their  soft  colour, 
were  sometimes  electric  if  not  severe  in  expression, 
her  finely  chiselled  profile,  her  clear  and  brilliant 
skin,  her  slightly  projecting  under-lip — then  com- 
monly called  the  "  Austrian  lip " — her  graceful  but 
well-developed  figure,  her  beautiful  hands  and  arms, 
all  proclaimed  her  sisterhood  to  the  "  last  and  fairest 
Queen  of  France ;"  but  none  the  less  had  some  of  her 
determined  political  acts  declared  her  to  be  the 
daughter  of  Maria  Theresa,  Empress  of  Austria,  and 
"  King  of  Hungary." 

At  sixteen  years  of  age  (in  the  month  of  April, 
1768),  this  Queen  Caroline  of  Naples  had  been  sent 
forth  from  Vienna  to  wed  King  Ferdinand  IV.  of 
"the  Two  Sicilies,"  and  in  him  she  found  a  young 
prince  whose  education  had  been  intentionally  neg- 
lected by  his  preceptors — because  they  wished  to 
keep  political  power  in  their  own  hands — and  who 
therefore  excelled  in  nothing  but  hunting  and  fish- 
ing. In  the  latter  sport  he  was  especially  proficient, 
for  he  not  only  caught  fish  in  the  blue  waters  under 
his  dominion,  but  he  sold  them  ;  not  so  much  for 
desire  of  gain,  but  for  love  of  frolic.  By  the  lazza- 
roni,  the  beggars  of  Naples,   he  was  almost  lovingly 


2iS        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF  FRANCE. 

called  "dear  king,  Nasone,"  for  the  principal  fea- 
ture of  his  face  was  a  long  nose  ;  but,  he  was  not 
irreverent,  for  the  one  book  he  knew  was  his  mass- 
book.  By  his  flattering  courtiers  he  was  styled  "  the 
Modern  Nimrod,"  and  had  he  not,  according  to 
other  creeds,  been  superstitious,  he  might  have  been 
irreligious.  Such,  however,  he  was  not ;  and  his  wife, 
Queen  Marie  Caroline,  or  Queen  Caroline  as  she  was 
more  generally  called,  soon  exercised  supreme  domi- 
nion over  him,  and  also  over  his  kingdom.  By  the 
Italian  poet,  Metastasio,  long  resident  as  poet  laureate 
at  Vienna,  she  had  been  taught  the  language  of  the 
country  over  which,  at  sixteen  years  of  age,  she  came 
to  reign  ;  and,  in  every  way,  she  was  well  prepared, 
from  earliest  youth,  to  enjoy  all  the  intellectual 
charms  of  existence  in  Southern  Italy, — that  land  of 
music,  poetry,  and  epic  traditions,  blue  skies,  bright 
seas.  Vesuvius,  that  mighty  volcano,  with  fertile  vines 
twining  at  its  base ;  Etna,  that  fiery  mountain,  in  the 
deep  caverns  of  which  the  Cyclops  of  mythology 
forged  the  thunderbolts  of  Jupiter ;  Naples,  that 
capital  of  "  the  garden  of  Italy,"  with  its  antique  and 
magnificent  temples,  its  devotional  works  of  art : — 
all  these,  and  much  more,  were  hers,  as  Queen. 
King  Ferdinand,  was  glad  from  the  first  for  his  king- 
dom to   be    ruled    by   such  a  wife,  for  she  'speedily 


MARIE  AMELIE  AND  DUCHESS  OF  ORLEANS.  219 

took  the  reins  of  government  into  her  own  fair 
hands,  and  not  only  taught  him  how  to  love,  but 
also — say  some  chroniclers — how  to  write. 

Various  had  been  the  vicissitudes  of  Naples,  or 
"  the  Two  Sicilies,"  ere  Bonaparte  had  gained  his  vic- 
tories ;  numerous  children  had  meantime  been  born 
to  King  Ferdinand  and  Queen  Caroline ;  and  over 
her  Neapolitan  Majesty  the  Chevalier  Aeton  had 
gained  political  power;  but  it  was  to  Lady  Hamilton, 
the  English  Ambassador's  wife,  that  the  Queen 
trusted  for  the  consummation  of  such  an  understand- 
ing with  his  Britannic  Majesty  (George  III.)  that  no 
doubt  should  any  longer  exist  as  to  her  abhorrence 
of  France,  where  her  sister  had  reigned  and  been 
murdered. 

At  the  feet,  therefore,  of  Queen  Caroline  reclined 
Lady  Hamilton,  in  the  attitude  of  an  "  esclave  reine," 
upon  that  day  when  their  Neapolitan  Majesties  sailed 
forth  to  welcome  Nelson  after  his  conquest  of 
Bonaparte. 

Her  attire  was  classically  simple,  but  it  displayed 
the  perfection  of  her  form,  and  neither  in  the  dignified 
repose  of  her  attitude,  nor  the  ingenuousness  of  her 
fine  countenance,  shaded  by  soft  dark  hair,  could  there 
be  read  aught  to  warn  the  beholder  against  this  Circe, 
whose  enchantments  were  soon  to  be  fatally  exercised 


220        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF   FRANCE. 

upon  Nelson,  and  to  work  out  a  retributive  destiny 
for  the  Queen  herself. 

Nor  could  anybody  have  supposed,  looking  at  Lady 
Hamilton  in  the  midst  of  the  Neapolitan  Court  on 
that  bright  day  aboard  the  royal  galley,  that  once 
upon  a  time  she  was  but  a  bare-footed  beggar-child 
wandering  over  stony  roads  by  the  side  of  a  vagrant 
mother,  the  name  of  whose  husband  was  doubtful ; 
nor  that  during  an  intervening  period  she  had  been 
nursemaid  in  the  family  of  a  Mr.  Hawarden,  of 
Flintshire.  In  that  remote  district  the  celebrated 
but  sometimes  itinerant  artist,  Romney,  met  her ; 
and  having  taken  a  sketch  of  her  in  the  act  of  pass- 
ing a  muddy  pool,  he  told  her  that  if  she  would  come 
to  London  he  would  give  her  five  pounds  for  every 
"sitting"  as  a  model;  and  accordingly  she  came 
to  London,  and — without  here  entering  into  other 
details — she  in  time  found  herself  so  notorious,  that 
Sir  William  Hamilton  had  believed  it  to  be  his  duty 
to  attempt  to  detach  her  from  a  relative  of  his  own, 
but  had  ended  by  marrying  her  himself  and  conveying 
her  to  Naples. 

Nobody  would  have  believed  in  the  low  birth  and 
worse  than  doubtful  antecedents  of  Lady  Hamilton 
as  she  reclined  at  the  feet  of  the  Queen  of  Naples 
that  sunny  day  when  Nelson  returned  thither  victo- 


MARIE  AMELIE  AND  DUCHESS  OF  ORLEANS.  221 

rious  ;  but,  looking  at  the  versatile  expression  of  her 
fine  face,  noticing  the  wondrous  but  ever  varying 
grace  of  her  flexible  figure,  few  people  would  have 
doubted  the  fact  that  she  had  been  found  capable  of 
personifying  (as  model  to  the  painter  Romney,  and 
afterwards  in  other  more  objectionable  ways)  the 
character  either  of  a  Magdalene  or  a  Cleopatra,  a 
Saint  or  a  Bacchante.  Nor,  listening  to  her  eloquent 
flow  of  words,  could  there  have  been  much  doubt  as 
to  her  capacity  for  recitation,  the  earliest  proof  of 
which  was  given  many  years  before,  when,  as  a  country 
girl  just  come  to  London,  she  went  to  Drury  Lane 
Theatre,  was  there  smitten  with  wonder  at  the  per- 
formance of  "  Romeo  and  Juliet,"  and  afterwards 
thrilled  all  those  who  came  within  her  reach  by  her 
wondrous  reproduction  of  what  she  had  heard  on 
the  stage. 

On  board  the  royal  galley  that  day,  when  Nelson 
sailed  into  the  port  of  Naples,  was  also  her  husband, 
Sir  William  Hamilton,  a  courtly-looking  elderly  gen- 
tleman, noted  for  his  antiquarian  researches,  and  liberal 
donations  of  rare  objects  to  the  British  Museum  :  his 
hair  was  powdered,  and  his  delicate  hands  were  shaded 
by  lace  ruffles,  through  which  gleamed  rings. 

Nelson  at  last  approached,  in  his  own  ship  the 
'  Vanguard,'   and  immediately  the  King  and  Queen 


222        ILLUSTRIOUS    WOMEN   OF  FRANCE. 

of  Naples,  followed  by  their  suite,  prepared  to  go  on 
board  that  English  man-of-war.  But  it  was  to  Lady 
Hamilton  that  her  Majesty  gave  precedence  upon 
this  occasion  ;  nor  was  it  the  first  time  that  her  lady- 
ship now  found  herself  in  presence  of  Nelson,  for  twice 
before  he  had  "  put  in  "  at  Naples  for  assistance,  and 
upon  at  least  one  of  these  occasions  he  had  there 
come  in  contact  with  the  fascinating  wife  of  the  British 
Minister. 

King  Ferdinand  hailed  Nelson  as  the  "  Liberator  of 
the  World,"  and  conferred  all  sorts  of  honours  upon 
him ;  but  when  Lady  Hamilton  beheld  him  pallid 
because  of  the  blood  he  had  lately  shed,  and  with  his 
forehead  bandaged  because  of  the  scalp  wound  which, 
recently  inflicted,  had  at  first  been  thought  mortal, 
she  fainted,  or  at  least  momentarily  appeared  to  do  so. 

Nelson  did  the  honours  of  his  ship,  and  showed  how 
French  bullets  had  inflicted  upon  it  glorious  wounds, 
"  which,  like  his  own,  were  not  yet  closed,"  and  then, 
having  entered  the  Neapolitan  galley  that  awaited 
him  with  its  four-and-twenty  gaily  dressed  rowers, 
he  afterwards  accompanied  the  King  and  Queen  of 
Naples,  with  their  Court,  in  a  triumphal  procession, 
which  made  its  way  through  an  excited  populace,  to 
the  residence  of  the  British  Minister,  where  a  superb 
banquet  awaited  the  hero. 


MARIE  AMELIE  AND  DUCHESS  OF  ORLEANS.  223 

And  here,  in  a  scene  of  enchantment,  Nelson  sat 
between  the  Queen  of  Naples  and  Lady  Hamilton, — 
the  King  of  Naples  facing  them.  Mirrors  on  the 
walls  multiplied  innumerable  artificial  lights  in 
thousands  of  dazzling  forms ;  around  the  table 
were  eighty  distinguished  guests,  dressed  in  the 
showy  court  costume  of  the  period  ;  diamonds 
sparkled  ;  orders  "  of  merit "  gleamed  ;  feathers 
waved  ;  wine  flowed  :  the  banquet  was  worthy  of 
the  gods. 

Light,  flowers,  beauty,  flattery,  wine,  fame,  each 
and  all  of  these  assimilated  with  the  joy  which  was 
every  moment  more  and  more  demonstrated.  At 
every  course  of  the  banquet,  a  toast !  It  was  King 
Ferdinand  who  proposed  the  health  of  his  "  well- 
beloved  cousin  and  august  ally,  George  III.,  King  of 
England." 

It  was  the  Queen  of  Naples  who,  contrary  to  all 
precedent,  proposed  the  health  of  "  Nelson,  liberator 
of  Italy."  But  it  was  Lady  Hamilton  who  touched 
with  her  ruby  lips  the  sparkling  glass  which  she 
forthwith  handed  to  "  the  hero  of  the  Nile." 

Nelson  drank  of  that  glass  ;  enthusiasm  became 
more  and  more  demonstrative,  until  at  last  the 
solemn  strains  of  "  God  save  the  King"  pealed  forth 
from  the  orchestra  above — an  orchestra  which,  though 


224        ILLUSTRIOUS    WOMEN   OF   FRANCE. 

invisible,  was  composed  of  the  choicest  talent  from  the 
Opera  of  St.  Carlos. 

"God  save  the  King!"  that  English  anthem  was 
sung  by  Italian  voices. 

King  Ferdinand,  his  Queen,  Lady  Hamilton, 
Nelson,  all  stood  up  to  do  honour  to  the  words  ;  and 
with  them  the  eighty  guests  around  the  banquet 
table. 

Other  verses  were  added  in  honour  of  the  occasion, 
and  it  is  supposed  that  Lady  Hamilton  improvised 
them  ;  but  at  last,  amid  loud  acclamations,  the 
English  anthem  ceased,  and  the  guests  re-seated 
themselves. 

Then  was  it  that  a  man  suddenly  entered  into  the 
midst  of  that  brilliant  assembly, — a  man,  who,  in  his 
person  and  dress,  presented  a  strange  contrast  to  it. 
He  was  of  tall  stature  and  stern  countenance.  He 
wore  an  ill-shaped  blue  coat,  red  vest,  white  trousers, 
and  from  the  three-cornered  hat,  which  he  kept  on  his 
head,  floated  a  tri-coloured  plume — emblem  of  French 
Republicanism. 

It  was  the  Minister  Garat,  who,  in  the  name  of  the 
French  National  Convention,  then  represented  France 
at  Naples — the  same  man  who  formerly  had  read 
the  sentence  of  death  to  Louis  XVI.  in  the  prison  of 
the  Temple. 


MARIE  AMELIE  AND  DUCHESS  OF  ORLEANS.  225 

A  profound  silence  greeted  him  when  thus  he  came 
upon  the  splendid  scene  in  honour  of  Nelson  at 
Naples ;  that  silence  was  broken  by  Garat's  sonorous 
voice  which  proclaimed — 

"  War !  war,  King  Ferdinand  and  Queen  Caroline, 
since  you  will  it.  But  it  shall  be  a  war  of  extermina- 
tion, which,  notwithstanding  the  British  hero  of  this 
festival,  and  the  power  he  represents,  will  cost  you 
your  lives  and  your  throne.  To-night  I  leave  Naples, 
this  city  of  perjury.  Shut  its  gates  behind  me  ;  but 
assemble  your  soldiers  behind  its  walls.  Bristle  your 
fortresses  with  cannon,  do  what  you  will ;  but  you  will 
not  retard  the  vengeance  of  France,  for  every  power 
must  eventually  yield  before  the  cry  of  '  Long  live 
the  French  Republic  !'  " 

These  words  were  prophetic ;  but  whatever  faults 
Queen  Caroline  of  Naples  may  have  committed, 
politically  or  otherwise,  she  expiated  them  ;  for  if  tears, 
to  say  nothing  of  tears  of  remorse,  can  wash  away 
stains  of  error  from  the  soul,  she  had  cause  to  shed 
them  in  beholding  and  suffering  from  the  calamities 
private  and  political,  consequent  on  her  rash  deeds. 

She  and  her  family  were  soon  obliged  to  fly  from 
Naples,  where  the  populace  was  in  a  state  of  insub- 
ordination, the  dockyard  in  flames  ;  and  she  could  not 
forget   that  it  was  by  her   advice  that  her  husband 

Q 


226        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF   FRANCE. 

(only  nominally  responsible,  for  he  had  ever  placed 
implicit  confidence  in  her  judgment),  pressed  by  the 
Cabinets  of  London  and  Vienna,  had  committed  him- 
self irretrievably  with  regard  to  Nelson,  and  had 
entered  into  the  coalition  against  the  French  Re- 
public. 

It  was  at  Palermo  that  the  royal  family  of  Naples 
sought  a  refuge.  On  the  voyage  thither,  in  the 
midst  of  a  terrific  storm,  Queen  Marie  Caroline 
(or  Caroline,  as  she  is  more  usually  called)  lost  her 
youngest  son ;  but  a  very  numerous  progeny  still 
remained  to  her,  and  not  the  least  interesting  to  her 
of  all  her  children  was  her  daughter,  Marie  Amelie. 

This  young  princess  was  just  then  eighteen  years 
of  age.  In  her  infancy  she  had  been  extremely  small 
and  weak,  although  so  precocious  in  intelligence  that 
by  some  in  Italy  it  was  supposed  that  a  divine  grace 
of  understanding  had  been  given  to  her  on  account  of 
her  having,  in  her  earliest  days,  received  the  benedic- 
tion of  the  venerable  bishop,  or  rather  saint,  Alphonse 
di'  Liguori. 

Her  mother,  although,  as  here  already  seen,  an 
ambitious  and  worldly  woman,  was  not  free  from  the 
superstitions  of  her  adopted  country,  and  doubtless 
it  was  due  to  her  influence  that  saintly  hands  had 
been  laid  upon  the  head  of  her  child  ;  but  the  Queen 


MARIE  AMELIE  AND  DUCHESS  OF  ORLEANS.  227 


also  knew  the  value  of  a  systematic,  practical  education 
such  as  she  herself  had  been  subjected  to  in  girlhood 
under  the  rule  of  her  own  mother,  Maria  Theresa, 
Empress  of  Austria,  (King  of  Hungary,)  and  the 
Princess  Marie  Amelie  was  therefore  soon  consigned 
to  the  vigilant  care  of  a  certain  Signora  Ambrosia, 
widow  of  one  of  the  chief  lawyers  of  Naples,  who 
strenuously  and  successfully  strove  to  check  the  too- 
impulsive  nature  of  the  child,  and  to  implant  in  her 
those  habits  of  order  and  mental  discipline  which,  in 
after-life,  became  conspicuous  in  her. 

From  what  has  been  here  already  said,  it  must  be 
understood  that  the  girlhood  of  Marie  Amelie  was 
passed  in  the  midst  of  political  storms,  such  as  those 
which  were  hereafter,  in  another  land,  to  become  her 
destiny  ;  but,  serious  though  her  character  was  by 
education,  she  none  the  less  enjoyed  a  visit  which  she 
made,  with  her  mother,  to  Vienna  just  at  the  time 
when,  emancipated  from  the  trammels  of  the  daily 
studies  enforced  by  her  much-loved  Signora  Ambrosia, 
she  became  curious  to  behold  other  scenes  than  those 
which  Southern  Italy  presented  to  her. 

At  Vienna  were  many  young  Archdukes,  her 
cousins,  and  to  one  of  these  it  would  seem,  even  from 
her  own  well-kept  journal,  that  she  was  inclined  to 
attach  herself.     She  found  it  pleasant  to  be  serenaded 


228        ILLUSTRIOUS    WOMEN   OF   FRANCE. 

by  him  beneath  her  windows,  to  interchange  serious 
thoughts  with  him  en  tete-a-tete;  but  this  young 
Archduke  was  destined  for  the  service  of  the  church, 
and  so  religiously  inclined  was  this  princess  even 
then  in  her  early  youth,  that  she  put  away  the  thought, 
as  a  Satanic  profanation,  of  detaching  him  from  the 
sacred  vocation  awaiting  him. 

After  this  visit  to  Vienna,  she  returned  with  her 
mother  to  Italy  ;  she  gave  her  time  and  attention  to 
the  poor,  and  this  to  such  an  extent,  that  by  some  it 
was  supposed  she  would  become  a  professed  Sister  of 
Charity  by  entering  the  cloister,  but  another  fate  was 
in  store  for  her.  Upon  this  point,  however,  let  her 
here  speak  for  herself : — * 

"  My  mother  summoned  my  sister  Isabelle  and  my- 
self, in  order  to  present  to  us  the  Due  d'Orleans. 
He  is  of  ordinary  figure,  somewhat  stout, — neither 
handsome  nor  ugly.  He  has  the  features  of  the 
House  of  Bourbon,  and  his  manners  are  very  polite 
and  well  educated." 


*  It  is  to  the  local  Neapolitan  researches  of  M.  Dumas  (fils)  that 
some  of  the  facts  concerning  Nelson's  reception  at  Naples  are  due,  as 
here  recorded.  In  the  following  extracts  from  the  journal  of  the 
Princess  Marie  Amelie  (since  Queen  of  the  French)  the  writer  of  the 
text  above  is  indebted  to  M.  Auguste  Trognon,  at  one  time  preceptor 
to  his  Royal  Highness  the  Prince  de  Joinville,  and  a  confidential  friend 
of  that  Prince's  mother  until  her  death. 


MARIE  AMELIE  AND  DUCHESS  OF  ORLEANS.  229 

These  words  are  somewhat  reserved,  for,  as  this 
well-disciplined  princess  had  determined  within  her- 
self not  to  be  carried  away  by  first  impressions, 
she  says  nothing  of  the  fact  that  her  imagination  had 
already  attached  itself  to  this  young  Due  d'Orleans, 
for  she  had  heard  of  his  courageous  feats  when  fight- 
ing under  General  Dumouriez  at  Valmi.  She  had 
heard  how  he  had  distinguished  himself  at  the  battle 
of  Jemappes  ;  she  had  heard  how,  despite  all  this,  he 
had  protested  against  the  revolutionary  crimes  in 
France,  and  how,  consequently,  he  had  been  compelled 
to  fly  from  his  own  country  and  quit  the  army.  She  had 
heard  how,  under  a  feigned  name  in  exile,  he  had  at 
one  time  acted  as  tutor  in  the  college  of  Reichenau, 
and  how  the  terrible  news  there  reached  him  of  his 
father  ("  Egalite")  having  perished  on  the  scaffold  of 
regicide  France.  She  had  heard  how,  since  then,  he 
had  wandered  on  foot  and  almost  penniless,  through 
Norway,  Sweden,  and  Lapland.  She  had  heard  how, 
in  the  year  1795,  he  set  off  from  the  North  Cape,  and 
paid  a  visit  to  General  Washington  in  America.  She 
had  heard  how  he  had  more  recently  founded  a  home 
for  his  exiled  brothers  and  himself  at  Twickenham, 
near  London,  and  how  devoted  he  had  been  to  them 
in  the  midst  of  sickness  and  death.  She  had  heard 
how  his  widowed  mother  was  still  an  exile  like  him- 


230        ILLUSTRIOUS    WOMEN    OF   FRANCE. 

self, — and  all  these  things  which  she  had  heard 
produced  a  favourable  impression  on  her  heart  and 
mind. 

But  she  had  also  been  told  by  her  mother  that  this 
young  Prince's  father  had  been  mainly  instrumental, 
by  those  democratic  opinions  which  had  gained  for 
him  the  sobriquet  of  "  Egalite"  in  bringing  about  the 
death  of  that  mother's  own  sister,  the  Queen  of 
France,  upon  that  regicide  scaffold  upon  which  he 
himself,  by  a  strange  retribution,  was  afterwards 
doomed  to  perish  ;  she  had  noticed  a  shudder  of 
horror  accompanying  the  very  mention  of  the  name  of 
Orleans  at  the  Court  of  her  parents  ;  and  she  knew 
that  it  was  merely  by  the  force  of  political  circum- 
stances, and  with  an  extreme  reluctance  that  this 
Prince,  the  son  of  Egalite, — this  Due  d'Orleans,  her 
"  cousin  "  and  contemporary, — was  introduced  into 
the  midst  of  her  own  royal  family  at  Palermo. 

It  was  therefore  with  a  double  feeling — half  pain, 
half  pleasure — that  the  Neapolitan  Princess  Marie 
Amelie  first  found  herself  face  to  face  with  Prince  Louis 
Philippe,  Due  d'Orleans,  although  events  soon  proved 
that  even  then  he  determined  upon  making  her 
his  wife.  He  had  come  alone  to  Palermo,  without 
followers,  and  in  the  most  simple  of  travelling  cos- 
tumes.    Their    Sicilian    Majesties   were   still    exiled 


MARIE  AMELIE  AND  DUCHESS  OF  ORLEANS.  231 

from  their  chief  capital  of  Naples,  and  to  them  Louis 
Philippe  said,  "  The  greater  the  fault  of  my  father, 
the  more  I  ought  to  be  allowed  to  prove  by  my  own 
conduct  that  I  have  inherited  only  the  misfortunes 
which  those  faults  have  brought  upon  my  family." 

It  was  just  then  (1808-9)  when  the  triumphs  of 
Napoleon  were  almost  universal,  and  their  Sicilian 
Majesties  (or,  rather,  the  Queen,  for  the  King,  as  in 
former  days,  was  still  chiefly  devoted  to  hunting  and 
fishing)  thought  to  make  good  use  of  the  Due 
d'Orleans  in  politics  appertaining  to  Spain.  Of  these 
politics  nothing  need  here  be  said  than  that  the  con- 
duct of  Louis  Philippe,  though  more  zealous  than 
successful,  convinced  King  Ferdinand  and  Queen 
Caroline  of  his  loyalty  to  the  cause  most  dear  to 
them  ;  and  their  daughter,  the  Princess  Marie  Amelie, 
had  become  gradually  so  captivated  by  his  brave  con- 
duct that,  notwithstanding  the  well-trained  modesty 
of  her  general  demeanour,  she  openly  declared,  in 
answer  to  his  matrimonial  overtures  towards  her,  that 
if  not  allowed  by  her  parents  to  marry  him,  she  would 
at  once  retire  from  the  world  and  become  a  nun. 

The  marriage,  though  postponed  from  time  to  time, 
at  last  took  place  in  the  afternoon  of  the  25th  day  of 
November,  1809,  at  Palermo,  and  here  let  the  bride 
give  a  portrait  of  herself  at  that  time. 


232        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF  FRANCE. 


"  I  am,"  says  she,  "  tall  and  well  made.  My  face  is 
long ;  I  have  blue  eyes,  which  are  neither  large  nor 
little,  but  animated  ;  a  very  large  forehead,  and  not 
much  hair,  but  this  of  a  fair  and  golden  hue ;  a  long 
aquiline  nose  ;  a  mouth  of  moderate  size,  but  agree- 
able ;  red  lips ;  teeth,  not  beautiful,  but  well  set  ;  a 
round  chin,  with  a  pretty  little  dimple  ;  a  long  neck  ; 
shoulders  well  placed  ;  .  .  .  arms  and  hands  rather 
ugly  ;  a  skin  fine  and  white  ;  a  pretty  leg,  and  a 
somewhat  long  foot  ;  the  tout  ensemble  is  noble, 
modest,  and  impressive,  and  of  an  air  to  show  whom 
I  am.  My  gait  is  easy  ;  I  dance  lightly ;  and  ...  I 
am  graceful  ...     So  much  for  my  exterior  .  .  .  ." 

This  self-portrait  painting  was  still  in  vogue  during 
the  youth  of  this  Bourbon  Princess,  but  what  she  here 
says  of  herself  is  not  too  flattering,  for  Talleyrand, 
when  subsequently  introduced  to  her,  declared  her  to 
be  "  the  last  grande  dame  in  Europe,"  and  her  virtues 
were  such  that  Pope  Gregory  XVI.  always  spoke  of 
her  as  "  that  saintly  woman,  that  holy  woman." 

She  was  about  27  years  of  age  when  she  married, 
and  happy  was  Louis  Philippe  Due  d'Orleans  to  win 
her  as  his  bride. 

Her  father,  King  Ferdinand,  had  just  met  with  an 
accident  to  one  of  his  legs  at  the  date  of  her  mar- 
riage, but  an  altar  was  arranged  at  the  foot  of  the 


MARIE  AMELIE  AND  DUCHESS  OF  ORLEANS.  233 

couch  upon  which  his  Majesty  reclined,  and  there,  in 
his  presence,  the  ceremony  was  first  performed, 
though,  upon  the  same  day,  afterwards  celebrated 
with  more  pomp  and  publicity  in  the  chapel  of  the 
royal  palace  of  Palermo. 

"  My  legs  trembled  under  me,"  writes  the  bride, 
"knowing  as  I  did  the  sanctity  and  the  strength  of  the 
vows  I  was  uttering  ;  but  my  bridegroom  uttered  the 
word  '  Yes '  in  so  resolute  a  tone  that  it  refilled  my 
heart  with  courage." 

The  Princess  Marie  Amelie,  or,  as  she  must  hence- 
forth here  be  called,  the  Duchesse  d'Orl^ans,  wore 
upon  this,  her  wedding  day,  a  dress  of  silvery  and 
Sicilian  fabric,  a  diadem  of  diamonds,  and  white 
feathers.  At  King  Ferdinand's  request,  the  bride  and 
bridegroom  supped  in  the  room  to  which  his  Majesty 
was  confined  .by  his  recent  accident,  and  the  Queen 
was  also  present ;  but  the  bride,  with  the  thoughtful 
and  pious  seriousness  even  then  habitual  to  her,  wrote 
in  her  journal : 

"  God,  placing  me  in  this  new  state  of  life,  has 
united  me  to  a  virtuous  and  amiable  husband.  May 
He  bless  the  union  which  He  hath  formed,  and  make 
us  to  live  tranquil  and  holy  lives  upon  this  earth,  so 
that  we  may  enjoy  the  heaven  which  awaits  us  here- 
after !  " 


234        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF   FRANCE. 

In  the  domestic  retreat  which  they  formed  for 
themselves  at  Palermo,  the  Due  and  Duchesse  were 
perfectly  happy,  and  when,  at  the  end  of  October, 
1 8 10,  the  Duchesse  placed  her  first-born  son,  the  Due 
de  Chartres,  in  the  arms  of  her  husband,  upon  the 
return  of  the  latter  from  a  journey  which  the  political 
exigences  of  the  time  had  compelled  him  to  make, 
there  was  no  drawback  to  the  married  felicity  for 
which  the  Princess  had  prayed,  except  in  the  fact  that 
her  mother  had  become  a  martyr  to  State  misfortunes, 
— a  detail  of  which  would  here  be  out  of  place — that 
the  health  of  that  unfortunate  and  at  one  time  per- 
haps too  ambitious  Queen  was  failing  fast  ;  and  that 
eventually,  for  the  sake  of  public  tranquillity,  and 
even  by  the  declared  wish  of  the  indolent  and 
pleasure-loving  King,  she  found  herself  compelled  to 
take  refuge  at  Vienna.  ' 

Of  the  two  Queens,  Marie  Antoinette  of  France, 
and  her  sister,  Marie  Caroline  of  Naples,  the  fate  of 
the  latter  would  seem  to  be  the  more  terrible  ;  for 
easier  it  must  be  to  ascend  a  scaffold  and  "  rise  to 
Heaven,"  than  to  wear  out  the  remainder  of  an  active 
life  which  has  outlived  itself  amid  scenes  that  only 
recall  the  mocking  memories  of  happiness  which  is 
dead,  and  of  loving  faces  which  smile  no  more  on 
earth. 


MARIE  AMELIE  AND  DUCHESS  OF  ORLEANS.  235 

Such  was  the  dreary  fate  of  Queen  Caroline,  whom 
Nelson  had  declared  "  a  Queen  to  the  backbone,"  and 
who  had  been  the  friend  of  Lady  Hamilton,  loved  by 
that  English  hero,  not  wisely,  but  too  well. 

By  the  Restoration  of  18 14  the  Due  and  Duchesse 
d'Orleans  were  recalled  from  Palermo  to  Paris.  The 
fall  of  Bonaparte  and  the  entrance  of  the  Allies 
into  the  capital  of  France  filled  their  hearts  with  joy, 
but  the  pleasure  of  Marie  Amelie  was  at  this  time 
dimmed  by  the  news  received  by  her  from  her  mother 
at  Vienna, — for,  wrote  that  once  proud  Queen, — 

"  Nothing  any  longer  affects  me  upon  earth.  My 
fate  was  decided  that  day  when  I  was  hunted  and 
thrown  out  of  Sicily  like  a.fetnme  de  theatre.  My  life 
is  ended  in  this  world,  and  I  am  now  an  object  of 
interest  to  none  but  some  few  old  women  who  only 
come  out  of  their  houses  to  look  at  me — the  last  of 
the  children  of  the  great  Maria  Theresa.  The  Prater 
is  in  its  beautiful  garb  of  green,  and  all  in  bloom,  but 
there  is  nothing  any  longer  beautiful  for  me." 

In  the  autumn  of  the  year  when  this  letter  was 
written,  the  hand  that  had  penned  it  was  cold  in  death. 
It  was  therefore  with  a  sense  of  depression  that  Marie 
Amelie,  Duchesse  d'Orleans,  first  entered  the  world  of 
Paris,  for  she  had  loved  her  mother. 

When    Louis    Philippe,    Due    d'Orleans,    after    a 


236        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF   FRANCE. 

quarter  of  a  century's  exile,  again  beheld  the  Palais 
Royal,  that  Paris  home  of  his  childhood  and  early 
youth,  he  knelt  down,  so  it  is  said,  and  kissed  the 
marble  pavement  within  its  entrance.  His  mother 
and  sister  were  likewise  deeply  affected  at  their  return 
with  him  to  this  palace,  fraught  (especially  to  the 
former)  with  so  many  memories,  that  the  Duchesse 
Marie  Amelie,  who  had  become  extremely  attached  to 
them  both  in  Italy,  felt  that,  though  weeping  for  the 
recent  death  of  her  own  mother,  it  was  her  duty  to 
console  these  near  relatives  of  her  husband. 

But  the  personage  of  her  own  sex  in  France  most  na- 
turally interesting  to  Marie  Amelie  was  her  cousin,  the 
Duchesse  d'Angouleme,  daughter  of  her  own  mother's 
sister,  Queen  Marie  Antoinette,  to  avenge  whose 
"  martyrdom  "  that  mother,  as  here  already  seen,  had 
plunged  Naples  into  war  against  France,  and  herself 
eventually  into  irretrievable  sorrow  and  a  sad  death  ; 
for  the  Duchesse  d'Angouleme  had  returned  to  France 
with  her  uncle,  Louis  XVIII.,  from  his  long  exile,  and 
these  two  Princesses,  cousins,  and  both  granddaughters 
of  Maria  Theresa,  resembling  each  other  strangely  in 
form,  feature,  and  habits  of  piety,  now  met  for  the 
first  time. 

The  Duchesse  d'Orleans  was  the  mother  of 
children  ;  the  Duchesse  d'Angouleme  was  childless  ; 


MARIE  AMELIE  AND  DUCHESS  OF  ORLEANS.  237 

but  when,  about  a  month  after  the  arrival  of  the 
family  at  the  Palais  Royal,  another  son  (the  Due 
de  Nemours)  was  added  to  the  infantine  group 
there,  the  Duchesse  d'Angouleme  generously  sympa- 
thised in  the  joy  due  to  the  occasion,  and  after- 
wards, in  the  royal  chapel  of  the  Tuileries,  presented 
the  " nonveau  11c"  at  the  font  of  baptism,  which  rite 
was  performed,  according  to  her  express  wish,  with  all 
the  ceremonial  of  the  ancienne  cour. 

When  Napoleon  escaped  from  Elba,  in  the  month 
of  March,  181 5,  Louis  XVIIL,  immediately  upon 
being  informed  of  that  startling  news,  sent  for  the 
Due  d'Orleans  to  join  him  instantly  at  the  Tuileries, 
and  forthwith  proceeded  to  recommend  certain  military 
duties  to  that  Prince  which  rendered  his  presence  in 
France  necessary. 

But  the  Due  d'Orleans  remembered  the  miseries 
of  French  revolution  in  his  youth  much  too  keenly 
not  to  provide  for  the  safety  of  his  wife  and  the 
four  children  of  whom,  by  that  time,  she  was  the 
mother,  and  he  at  once  made  arrangements  for  their 
departure  from  the  Palais  Royal  for  London,  where, 
after  a  journey  of  protracted  discomfort  and  danger, 
they  arrived,  and  took  up  their  temporary  abode, 
pending  news  from  France,  at  Grillion's  Hotel  in 
Albemarle  Street. 


238        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF   FRANCE. 

Her  children  were  safe  at  last,  but  the  anxiety  of 
the  Duchesse  d'Orleans  respecting  the  fate  of  her  hus- 
band was  extreme  during  her  first  residence  in  a  land 
which  was  destined  eventually  to  become  that  of  her 
last  home  on  earth.  The  fame  of  her  virtues  had  pre- 
ceded her,  and,  upon  hearing  of  her  arrival,  the  whole 
of  the  royal  family  of  England,  and  the  chief  mem- 
bers of  English  aristocracy,  flocked  to  pay  their 
respects  to  her.  News  reached  her  from  France  how 
King  Louis  XVIII.  had  fled  from  the  Tuileries, 
and  how  Napoleon  had  re-entered  that  palace ;  the 
battle  of  Waterloo  was  about  to  be  fought,  and  upon 
it  would  depend  the  fate  of  French  royal  fugitives ; 
but,  meantime,  her  heart  rejoiced,  for,  upon  the  morn- 
ing of  the  3rd  of  April  her  husband,  having  found  all 
military  and  political  resistance  just  then  worse  than 
useless  in  France,  suddenly  having  escaped  beyond 
the  Belgian  frontier,  appeared  before  her  ;  and,  writes 
she  in  her  journal,  "at  that  moment  I  forgot  every 
grief." 

The  Due  d'Orleans,  already  familiar  with  England, 
was  anxious  to  remove  his  Italian-born  wife  from  the 
cloudy  atmosphere  of  London  ;  and,  remembering  his 
own  residence  in  early  years  at  Twickenham,  he  in  a 
short  time  transported  her  thither,  to  the  abode 
which  now  (1873)  much  enlarged,  bears  the  name  of 


MARIE  AMELIE  AND  DUCHESS  OF  ORLEANS.  239 

Orleans  House,  and  is  well  known  to  English  society 
as  the  hospitable  home,  in  his  long  exile,  of  the  Due 
d'Aumale. 

In  the  year  18 15  this  was  but  a  very  humble  home 
for  the  Princesse  Marie  Amelie  d'Orleans,  accustomed 
as  she  was  to  Italian  palaces  and  to  the  splendour  of 
the  Palais  Royal  in  Paris  ;  but  she  was  happy  in  her 
English  retreat,  and  especially  so  in  the  privacy  of 
domestic  life  ;  she  travelled  occasionally  with  her 
husband  through  various  counties  of  England ;  de- 
voted herself  constantly  to  the  education  of  her  chil- 
dren ;  and  it  was  not  without  some  regret,  and  a  fear 
for  a  brilliant  though  uncertain  future  that  at  length, 
in  1 8 17,  she  returned  to  France  to  take  up  her  abode 
again  at  the  Palais  Royal,  and  also  occasionally  at 
the  charming  chateau  of  Neuilly,  which  property  had 
recently  accrued  to  the  Due  d'Orleans. 

In  after-life,  and  when  seated  on  the  throne  of 
France,  this  Princess  often  declared  that  the  years 
between  1817  and  1 830  were  the  happiest  of  her  whole 
life  ;  the  number  of  her  children  increased,  but  not- 
withstanding her  habitual  gravity  of  demeanour, 
she  was  joyous  in  their  society.  She  exacted  an 
account  of  their  several  studies,  but  she  voluntarily 
united  herself  with  their  pleasures.  Her  eldest  son,  the 
Due  de  Chartres,  educated  by  her  wish  at  the  public 


240        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN    OF  FRANCE. 

college,  "  Henri  Quatre  " — a  public  education  remark- 
able for  her,  as  a  Bourbon  princess  to  enforce,  and 
which  somewhat  shocked  the  prejudices  of  Louis 
XVIII. — carried  off  all  sorts  of  prizes,  with  which 
(they  having  been  fairly  won  competitively  with  other 
youths  of  his  age  betwixt  whom  and  himself  no  con- 
sideration of  superior  rank  was  allowed  to  interfere) 
she  adorned  her  private  sitting-room.  In  time  the 
number  of  these  symbols  of  merit,  laurel-wreaths, 
etc.,  increased,  for  the  younger  princes, — her  sons, 
de  Nemours,  d'Aumale,  and  de  Joinville — added  to 
them,  and  in  her  native  soft  Italian  tongue  she 
would  turn  to  her  attendants  and  say,  "  I  fear  to  be 
too  happy." 

From  her  infancy  she  had  been  taught  to  love 
France,  although  she  abhorred  the  crimes  of  France's 
"  Reign  of  Terror."  Whilst  still  in  her  cradle  she  had 
been  betrothed  to  the  "  first  Dauphin  "  of  France,  the 
elder  and  short-lived  son  of  her  aunt  Queen  Marie 
Antoinette ;  and,  though  by  her  marriage  with  the 
Due  d'Orleans  she  had  become  a  representative  of 
the  younger  branch  of  the  house  of  Bourbon  in  France, 
she  still  clung  to  the  traditions,  familiar  to  her  from 
infancy,  of  the  elder  branch.  It  was  therefore  no 
source  of  sorrow  to  her  when  her  niece,  the  Duchesse 
de  Berri,  left  a   widow   by  the  assassination  of  her 


MARIE  AMELIE  AND  DUCHESS  OF  ORLEANS.  241 

husband,  became,  in  1820,  the  mother  of  a  posthumous 
son  (the  present  Comte  de  Chambord),  although,  as 
rightful  heir  to  the  crown  in  the  direct  line,  his  birth 
negatived  the  hitherto  popular  belief  that  her  own 
eldest  son  would  some  day  stand  in  that  position. 

When  the  Revolution  of  1830  suddenly  pro- 
claimed itself,  and  she  found  that,  by  the  abdication 
of  Charles  X.  and  subsequent  quickly  succeeding 
events,  the  elder  branch  of  the  royal  family  was  exiled 
from  France,  and  her  own  husband  was  called  to  the 
throne  by  the  voice  of  the  people,  under  the  title  of 
Louis  Philippe,  King  of  the  French,  it  was  with  real 
pain  and  even  a  sort  of  terror  for  all  most  dear  to  her 
that  with  her  family  she  quitted  her  beloved  retreat 
at  Neuilly — where  in  that  summer-time  she  chanced 
to  be — and  found  herself  forced,  by  the  well-known 
circumstances  of  the  time,  to  take  up  her  abode  as 
Queen  at  the  Tuileries.  From  the  splendid  saloons  and 
galleries  of  that  historic  abode,  she  yearningly  looked 
back  in  memory  to  the  flower-gardens  of  Neuilly, 
and  was  even  inclined  to  regret  the  peaceful  hours 
which  many  years  before  she  had  found  at  Twicken- 
ham. She  believed  that,  politically,  her  husband  was 
right  in  accepting  the  throne  so  as  to  avert  future 
calamity  from  France  ;  but  she  was  strongly  attached, 
by  near  tics  of  blood,  to  both  the  Duchcsse  d'Angou- 

R 


242        ILLUSTRIOUS    WOMEN    OF   FRANCE. 

leme  and  the  Duchesse  de  Berri  who  were  exiled,  and 
must  henceforth  be  as  strangers  to  her,  by  the  fact  of 
her  own  sudden  and,  to  her,  unwelcome  elevation. 
Queen  Marie  Amelie  may  be  said  to  have  resigned 
herself  to  the  throne  ;  she  well  fulfilled  her  duties  as 
Queen,  for,  as  said  Talleyrand,  she  was  too  much 
"  grandedame"  and  too  thoroughly  a  Bourbon  princess 
to  neglect  them ;  but  her  happiest  hours  were  still 
passed  in  the  bosom  of  her  family ;  and,  despite  all 
the  duties  of  her  regal  position,  she  still  continued,  at 
stated  times,  to  assemble  her  sons  and  daughters 
around  her,  and  this  in  a  way  so  agreeable  to  them 
that  they  were  wont,  when  grown  to  manhood  and 
womanhood,  to  call  their  daily  afternoon  meetings  in 
her  private  apartment,  their  "  club."  Hither  some  of 
them  brought  one  occupation,  some  another  ;  books, 
occasionally,  were  read  aloud  ;  drawings  were  exa- 
mined ;  conversation  flowed  ;  the  Queen,  sometimes 
engaged  in  writing  and  sometimes  with  needle-work, 
occupied  the  central  place  of  this  family  group  ;  and 
the  King,  who  frequently  joined  "  the  club,"  one  day 
proudly  exclaimed  in  the  midst  of  it,  "All  my  sons 
are  brave ;  my  daughters  virtuous  and  beautiful." 

The  Princess  Louise,  one  of  the  most  exquisite,  the 
most  gifted,  and  the  best  loved  of  these  daughters 
was  soon  married  to  Leopold,  King  of  the  Belgians, 


MARIE  AMELIE  AND  DUCHESS  OF  ORLEANS.  243 

widower  of  the  Princess  Charlotte  of  England. 
Another  daughter,  the  Princess  Marie,  the  accom- 
plished sculptress  of  the  celebrated  statuette  of  Joan  of 
Arc  and  other  artistic  works,  was  also  soon  wedded  to 
the  Duke  Alexander  of  Wiirtemberg;  but  the  marriage, 
which  meantime  most  interested  the  people  of  France, 
as  affecting  their  own  political  future,  was  that  of  the 
Due  de  Chartres, — called  Due  d'Orleans,  since  his 
father  had  become  king, — to  the  young  Princess 
Helene  of  Mecklenburgh-Schwerin.  Her  mother  was 
the  daughter  of  the  Grand  Duke  Charles  Augustus 
of  Saxe  Weimar,  distinguished  for  his  noble  qualities, 
for  his  earnest  friendship  for  Gothe  and  Schiller,  and 
not  likely  to  be  forgotten  in  the  history  either  of 
nations  or  of  literature.  He  was  the  husband  of  the 
gifted  and  courageous  Princess  Louisa  of  Hesse  Darm- 
stadt, who,  in  the  war  against  Napoleon  made  a 
free  gift  of  her  diamonds  to  the  States,  and  was 
declared  by  that  conqueror,  struck  by  her  magna- 
nimity, to  be  "  the  one  true  princess  he  had  met  with 
in  Germany." 

The  Princess  Helen  inherited  most  of  the  fine  quali- 
ties which  distinguished  her  grand-parents  ;  and  none 
the  less  did  she  manifest  the  charm  and  sweetness  of 
her  mother's  character,  although  that  princess  (Caro- 
line, daughter  of  the  noble  Duke  and  Duchess  above- 

R  2 


244        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN    OF   FRANCE. 

mentioned)  died,  when  this  child,  her  daughter,  was 
but  two  years  of  age.  The  Princess  Augusta  of  Hesse- 
Homburg  soon  became  her  step-mother,  and  when 
this  last-named  princess  was  left  a  widow  after  a  brief 
term  of  married  happiness,  she  dedicated  her  every 
thought  and  care  to  the  son  and  daughter  of  her  pre- 
decessor, the  late  Grand  Duchess,  whom  she  had  known 
and  loved  ;  but  especially  did  she  consecrate  herself 
to  the  education  of  the  Princess  Helen. 

In  seclusion  was  this  child  reared.  Far  away  from 
the  tumult  of  the  world,  and  blissfully  ignorant  of  the 
scandals  either  of  courts  or  politics,  she  grew  up,  under 
the  watchful  eyes  of  her  beloved  and  widowed  step- 
mother, happy  in  her  studies  which  were  intelligently 
conducted,  and  calmly  rejoicing  in  the  loyal  affection  of 
the  "good  Mecklenburghers  "  who  surrounded  her. 

"  From  my  heart  do  I  love  thee,  O  Lord,"  was  the 
text  of  the  hymn  which,  by  her  own  choice,  was  sung 
when,  in  the  early  summer  time  of  1830,  she  was  con- 
firmed in  the  Lutheran  faith,  according  to  which  she 
had  been  educated. 

Up  to  that  time  the  whole  of  her  young  life  had 
been  indeed  a  perpetual  hymn  of  love  to  God  in  nature, 
of  charity  towards  all  human  creatures  near  her,  of 
admiration  for  all  things  good  or  beautiful,  even  in  the 
simplest  and  most   every-day  form,    whether  in  the 


MARIE  AMELIE  AND  DUCHESS  OF  ORLEANS.  345 

scent  and  sight  of  flowers,  or  in  the  song  of  birds.  A 
visit  to  Switzerland  had  been  one  great  event  for  her  ; 
the  vision  there  of  lofty  mountains,  of  rushing  cata- 
racts, of  glories  which  contrasted  strangely  with  the 
monotonous  aspect  of  her  native  land  and  the  routine 
of  her  daily  life,  affected  her  strongly.  Much  less 
had  a  visit  to  the  court  of  her  grandfather,  the  Grand 
Duke  of  Saxe  Weimar,  penetrated  her  with  emotion. 
At  the  time  of  her  appearance  in  the  midst  of  the 
brilliant  circle  of  that  court  she,  though  scarcely  more 
than  a  child  who  had  been  reared  in  retirement,  was 
regarded  with  love  and  admiration  ;  for  the  poetical 
charm  of  her  dawning  womanhood,  of  her  already 
highly  cultivated  mind,  and  of  her  extreme  tender- 
ness of  character,  found  ready  sympathy  in  a  society 
where  the  chief  prince  felt  himself  honoured  by  the 
society  of  poets  who  have  helped  to  immortalize  his 
reign  and  memory. 

In  1834,  the  Princess  Helen  mourned  the  death  of 
her  brother  Albert ;  her  sensitive  nature  suffered  much 
from  this  event,  and  also  on  account  of  an  illness 
which  had  threatened  to  rob  her  of  the  good  princess, 
her  "  mother.''  This  death  and  this  illness,  her  visit 
to  Switzerland  and  that  to  the  court  of  Saxe  Weimar, 
were  indeed  the  four  chief  events  in  her  life ;  two  of 
them  sad  and  two  joyous,  until  one  May-day  in  the 


246        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN    OF  FRANCE. 

year  1837,  when  she  was  called  upon  to  quit  for  ever 
the  old  castle  where  her  childhood  had  been  spent, 
to  bid  adieu  for  ever  to  the  kind  friends  of  almost 
every  class  who  had  loved  her  and  watched  her  from 
her  cradle,  and  to  proceed  at  once  to  France,  there  to 
become  the  bride  of  the  Prince  Royal,  the  Due  d'Or- 
leans,  eldest  son  of  Louis  Philippe,  King  of  the 
French. 

It  was  the  then  King  of  Prussia  who  had  recom- 
mended this  marriage  to  the  court  of  France,  for  he 
had  seen  the  Princess  Helen  at  Toplitz,  whither  she 
had  accompanied  her  "  mother  "  during  the  illness  of 
the  latter ;  and  he  so  much  admired  and  respected 
her,  that,  whilst  expressing  his  regret  that  he  had  no 
daughters  himself  to  give  to  French  princes  just  then 
in  want  of  wives,  he  delighted,  during  a  visit  of  the 
Due  d'Orleans  to  Berlin,  in  indicating  to  him  the 
object  most  worthy  of  his  choice. 

In  1830  the  Princess  Helen  had  manifested  an 
eager  interest  in  the  politics  of  France  ;  and,  in  her 
far-off  secluded  home,  had  studied  every  journal  or 
book  that  reached  her  concerning  the  revolution  by 
which  Louis  Philippe  and  his  consort,  Marie  Amelie, 
had  become  King  and  Queen  of  the  French. 

Young  and  inexperienced,  therefore,  though  she 
was,  this  German  princess  upon  her  arrival  in  France 


MARIE  AMELIE  AND  DUCHESS  OF  ORLEANS.  247 

was  by  no  means  deficient  in  knowledge  of  the 
character  and  history  of  the  people  over  whom  it  was 
presumed  that  she  would,  in  her  turn,  some  day  reign 
as  Queen.  Her  ardent  imagination  was  smitten  in 
favour  of  a  land  which  boasted  of  heroes  and  poets  for 
her  sons,  and  when  the  Due  d'Orleans  in  romantic 
fashion  presented  himself  to  her  (at  Chalons)  on  the 
eve  before  her  arrival  at  Fontainebleau,  where  the 
Royal  Family  awaited  her,  she  freely  gave  her  young 
heart  to  this  Prince,  her  already  betrothed  husband. 

At  the  foot  of  the  great  staircase  in  the  historic 
palace  of  Fontainebleau,  she  met  him  again ;  royal 
troops  of  soldiers  were  drawn  up  in  the  courtyard 
outside  ;  cries  of  enthusiasm  from  crowds  of  people 
who  had  come  from  far  and  near,  to  witness  the  arrival 
of  this  modest  Princess,  echoed  in  the  distance.  Upon 
the  first  landing  of  the  staircase  stood  Queen  Marie 
Amelie,  with  the  Princesses,  her  daughters,  awaiting 
the  coming  of  this  new  member  of  their  family.  King 
Louis  Philippe  welcomed  her  as  she  alighted  from  her 
carriage,  and  in  a  few  moments  afterwards  she — the 
German  Princess  Helen — was  folded  to  the  heart  of 
the  Italian-born  Queen,  in  whom  she  then  and  hence- 
forth sought  and  found  a  mother. 

Their  religions  were  opposed  to  each  other  ;  in  age 
they  were  far  apart  from  each  other  ;  but  in  simple 


248        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF   FRANCE. 

purity  of  heart  this  Queen  and  this  Princess  were 
equal  one  with  another. 

Agreeable  was  it  from  this  first  moment  of  their 
meeting,  for  her  Catholic  and  Bourbon-born  Majesty 
(called  by  Talleyrand  "  the  last  Grande  Dame  of 
Europe")  to  notice  the  distinguished  manners  of 
her  German  and  Lutheran  daughter-in-law ;  the 
Princess  Helen  exhibited  no  sign  of  fear  in  sudden 
presence  of  the  brilliant  court  of  France  which  thus 
unfolded  itself  to  her  view ;  for,  although  hitherto 
almost  a  recluse,  "she  had,"  says  an  eye-witness  of 
her  arrival  at  Fontainebleau,  "  a  right  royal  air  ;  and, 
despite  her  youthful  appearance,  appeared  born  to 
command  all  who  surrounded  her." 

The  charm  of  her  countenance  was  chiefly  that  of  ex- 
pression. Her  graceful  though  somewhat  fragile  form 
seemed  but  to  enshrine  the  vivid  soul  within.  She 
was  scarcely  more  than  twenty  years  of  age,  and  so 
childishly  impulsive  was  she  still,  that  when  she  made 
her  first  public  entry  into  Paris  with  her  husband 
after  their  marriage  at  Fontainebleau,  she  suddenly 
stood  upright  in  the  open  carriage  conveying  her 
through  the  crowd  (to  the  acclamations  of  which  she 
had  been  responding  with  meek  grace)  in  her  eager 
desire  to  catch  the  first  view  of  the  Tuileries,  that 
palatial  chateau  of  which  she  had  read  and  heard  much, 


MARIE  AMELIE  AND  DUCHESS  OF  ORLEANS.  249 

and  towards  which  she  was  now  approaching  as  her 
own  home.  She  was  very  happy — too  happy,  as  she 
sometimes  feared— and  this  especially  after  her  first 
child,  the  Comte  de  Paris,  was  born.  "God  is  so 
merciful  ! "  she  writes,  after  that  event ;  "  a  new  world 
opens  before  me ;  a  child  to  love  and  cherish — the 
hopes  of  a  nation  to  realize  by  the  future  life  of  that 
child!"  Upon  the  9th  day  of  November,  1840,  her 
second  son,  the  Due  de  Chartres,  was  born.  Already 
had  she  begun  to  unfold  to  her  elder  child  the  marvels 
of  God  in  nature  ;  not  a  flower,  nor  a  sunset,  nor  the 
song  of  a  bird,  nor  any  subject  which  worthily  attracted 
his  dawning  attention  but  had  its  sweet  lesson  from 
her  lips.  She  adored  her  husband,  and  all  the  more 
so  because  of  the  courage  demonstrated  by  him  as  a 
soldier  abroad.*     In  her  own  conduct  she  was  very 

*  When  the  African  campaign,  which  eventually  helped  to  crown 
him  with  laurels,  called  the  Duke  of  Orleans  away  from  France,  his 
consort,  resolved  to  follow  him  to  Port  Vendres,  the  place  of  his  em- 
barkation. On  their  way  thither  they  visited  Perpignan,  the  chief  town 
of  the  province  of  Roussillon,  but  there  they  met  with  a  cold  reception, 
owing  to  the  separate  efforts  of  Legitimists  and  Republicans  to  neutralise 
any  manifestation  of  enthusiasm  towards  a  Prince  of  the  then  reigning 
House  of  Orleans.  The  Due  and  Duchesse  d'Orleans  proceeded  to  Port 
Vendres,  where  a  very  different  scene  awaited  them ;  for,  when  arriving 
at  this  place,  the  heart  of  the  Princess — albeit  already  laden  with  sadness 
and  anxiety  as  to  her  fast  approaching  separation  from  her  husband — was 
cheered  not  only  by  the  sight  of  Nature  in  all  the  luxuriant  splendour  of 
a  Southern  clime,  but  by  the  acclamations  of  the  people. 

In  an  unpretending  and  open  travelling  carriage  the  Princess  and  her 
ladies  of  honour  approached  Port  Vendres.     The  Due  d'Orleans  rode 


250        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN    OF  FRANCE. 


meek  ;  but,  as  she  herself  said,  "  I  have  a  great  deal 
of  ambition  for  him." 

on  horseback  by  the  side  of  that  carriage  ;  and,  whilst  bowing  repeatedly 
to  the  people  in  acknowledgment  of  their  welcome,  both  the  royal 
guests  looked  with  admiration  at  the  blue-tinted  mountains  and  hills 
here  formed  by  the  Oriental  Pyrenees  into  an  amphitheatre,  where  grow 
the  olive  and  the  vine,  the  citron,  and  flowers  of  such  bright  hue  that 
they  seem  to  reflect  the  sunshine  and  the  glorious  sky  above  them. 
With  evident  delight  the  Prince  spoke  to  the  Princess,  and  indeed  it 
was  a  scene  to  which  her  poet-heart,  that  in  youth  had  thrilled  at  the 
glowing  lines  of  her  great  countrymen — Schiller  and  Gothe, — might 
well  respond.  But  more  to  her  than  hill  or  mountain,  blue  skies 
or  neutral-tinted  olive  groves,  or  even  than  the  rainbow-coloured  waves 
of  the  sparkling  ocean  dancing  near,  were  the  signs  of  loyalty  to  her 
husband  which  everywhere  saluted  her.  Under  a  triumphal  arch  she 
passed  with  him,  whilst  acclamations  echoed  through  the  sunlit  air 
from  mountain  and  from  sea ;  for  the  waters  which  dashed  into  the  port 
as  though  full  of  joy,  were  studded  by  light  gondola-looking  boats  with 
gay  streamers,  the  armed  rowers  of  which  wore  the  Catalonian  costume 
of  scarlet  and  white,  the  same  brilliant  contrast  of  hue  being  also  often 
visible  amongst  the  vast  and  excited  crowd  on  shore.  The  Princess's 
carriage  stopped  and  she  alighted,  as  did  also  her  husband,  on  a  space 
reserved  for  them  ;  their  equerries  and  attendants  formed  a  semicircle 
in  the  background.  The  Mayor,  whose  long  disused  title  (de  droit)  of 
Due  (formerly  Count)  du  Roussillon,  had  been  acknowledged  since  the 
Restoration  (a  tower,  built  by  one  of  his  ancestors  in  the  year  985,  was 
visible  on  the  olive-crowned  heights),  came  forth  to  welcome  the 
Orleanist  Prince  and  Princess,  as  did  also  his  two  elder  sons,  Honore  and 
Francois,  who  were  then  and  there  presented  to  their  Royal  Highnesses. 
But  that  which  seemed  most  to  please  the  Duchesse  d'Orleans  was 
the  sight  of  a  troop  formed  of  white-robed  young  girls,  who,  emerging 
from  the  crowd,  approached  the  Princess  ;  the  foremost  of  this  troop 
(Mademoiselle  Berlan)  carried  in  her  hand  a  dainty  satin-lined  basket, 
in  which  lay  a  magnificent  bouquet  formed  of  flowers  indigenous  to  that 
bright  southern  clime,  and  this  she  gracefully  presented  to  the  fair  royal 
guest  with  the  following  words  : — 

"  Madame,  in  traversing  this  France  which  loves  you  so  much,  your 
Royal  Highness  has  met  with  innumerable  proofs  of  affection,  to  which 


MARIE  AMELIE  AND  DUCHESS  OF  ORLEANS.  251 

Chiefly  on  her  account,  and  despite  various  griev- 
ances against  the  Government  of  Louis  Philippe,  the 
Due  d'Orleans  became  more  and  more  popular;  he 
intensely  appreciated  the  rare  virtues  of  his  wife, 
virtues  which  His  mother  had  originally  taught  him 
to  admire  in  her  own  conduct ;  but  in  the  course  of 
the  year  1840-41  he  had  reason  to  be  anxious  about 
her  health,  for  the  Duchesse  d'Orleans,  albeit  looking 
well  and  feeling  happy,  playing  with  her  children  in 
summer  time  amongst  the  flowers  of  Neuilly,  wander- 
ing with  her  husband  through  the  park  and  parterres 
of  that  favourite  retreat  of  theirs,  or  at  the  Tuileries 
organizing  receptions  (comprising  Lamartine,  Victor 

this  humble  offering  is  united  in  testimony  of  the  reverence  and  bound- 
less devotion  inspired  by  the  virtues  of  the  Princess  before  whom  I  have 
now  the  honour  to  kneel,"  &c.  &c. 

Graciously  the  Duchesse  d'Orleans  received  the  floral  gift,  and  after- 
wards caused  a  magnificent  brooch  to  be  presented  to  the  fair  speaker 
of  words  which  evidently  pleased  her,  and  which  were  originally  com- 
posed by  Ilonore,  the  son  and  present  successor  (de  droit)  of  the  then  Due 
du  Roussillon.  But  only  too  soon  for  the  royal  guests  did  that  happy  day 
come  to  an  end  ;  together  they  went  on  board  the  vessel  which  was 
waiting  to  convey  the  husband  from  the  wife,  and  when  she  returned  to 
shore  without  him,  there  were  signs  of  sorrow  on  her  gentle  counte- 
nance which  touched  the  kindly  hearts  of  the  people. — a  people  ardent 
and  impulsive. 

Long  did  the  Duchesse  d'Orleans  remember  that  day,  for  even  during 
the  illness  which  prematurely  closed  her  widowed  life,  she  bade  her 
elder  and  fatherless  son  not  to  forget  the  loyalty  of  the  province  of 
Roussillon  ;  at  least  so  the  present  claimant  of  that  title  was  told 
(when  one  evening  a  guest  of  Sir  Roderic  Murchison)  by  the  Comte  de 
I'aris. 


-:>- 


ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF   FRANCE. 


Hugo,  and  other  of  their  contemporaries)  she  was  far 
from  strong ;  or,  rather,  it  seemed  as  though  the  very- 
strength  of  her  felicity,  the  intense  sensitiveness  of 
her  nature,  were  too  refined  for  the  wear  and  tear  of 
daily  life, — even  though  the  life  of  a  then  peculiarly 
happy  Princess. 

She  was  recommended  by  her  physicians  to  journey 
to  Plombieres,  there  to  "  take  the  waters."  She  could 
not,  or  would  not,  believe  in  the  necessity  of  following 
this  advice,  but  her  husband  insisted  upon  the  change 
prescribed  for  her,  and  accordingly  conducted  her  to 
Plombieres.  For  two  days  he  remained  with  her 
there,  at  the  end  of  which  time  he  was  compelled  to 
rejoin  the  Camp  of  St.  Omer.  the  manoeuvres  of 
which  he  was  then  directing.  Meanwhile  they  had 
met  with  ovations  on  their  way,  for  although  they  had 
tried  to  shun  recognition,  triumphal  arches  and  every 
outward  expression  of  welcome,  harmonious  with  the 
bright  sun  of  Midsummer  shining  over  them,  greeted 
them. 

"  I  am  so  happy,"  said  the  Duchess  ;  "  I  am  so 
happy,  that  if  what  I  feel  be  illness,  I  have  no  desire 
to  get  well." 

Poor  Princess  !  She  always  seemed  prophetically 
to  dread  her  too  great  sense  of  happiness,  and  yet 
even  in  little  things   she  found  such  pleasure !     For 


MARIE  AMELIE  AND  DUCHESS  OF  ORLEANS.  253 

example,  the  last  evening  of  her  husband's  stay  with 
her  they  went  out  together,  and  she  rejoiced  like  a 
child  in  gathering  wild  flowers.  He,  entering  into 
her  pursuit,  plucked  some  too ;  and  making  them 
up  into  a  bouquet,  presented  them  to  her.  At  the 
moment  neither  he  nor  she  heeded  their  nature,  or 
the  superstition  attached  to  them  ;  but  afterwards 
she  had  only  too  much  reason  to  remember  that 
they  were  those  (wild  scabious)  which  in  France 
are  known  as  the  symbolic  "  flowers  of  widow- 
hood." 

He  left  her.  "  We  shall  not  be  parted  long,"  said 
she,  with  a  smile  which  struggled  against  the  tears 
caused  by  even  what  seemed  to  be  so  short  a  separa- 
tion.    "  We  shall  not  be  parted  long." 

And  then,  as  though  determined  to  get  well  as  soon 
as  she  could,  she  quickly  interested  herself  in  the  place 
where  she  found  herself,  and  within  a  few  days  at- 
tracted the  people  of  that  place  towards  her  by  her 
charming  affability. 

In  attendance  upon  her  were  Madame  de  Montes- 
quiou,  General  Baudrand,  and  M.  de  Montguyon. 
One  day,  about  a  week  after  her  husband's  departure, 
she  went  to  see,  or  rather  to  hear,  a  poor  family  cele- 
brated for  its  hereditary,  though  untutored,  love  of 
music.     She  was   in  high  spirits  that   day,  and   had 


254        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF  FRANCE. 

amused  herself,  whilst  unconsciously  fascinating  others, 
by  playing  upon  the  quaint  instruments  she  found 
amongst  these  peasants. 

She  came  home  with  her  hands  full  of  flowers,  and 
proceeded  to  dress  herself  for  dinner.  Madame  de 
Montesquiou  was  likewise  performing  her  toilette  when 
an  urgent  message  from  General  Baudrand  called  her 
downstairs. 

She  found  him  looking  aghast,  and  holding  a  letter 
in  his  hand.  His  emotion  was  so  great  that  he  could 
not  stand.  Madame  de  Montesquiou  was  certain  that 
some  terrible  calamity  had  befallen  the  Royal  Family  ; 
but  even  her  worst  fears  did  not  reach  the  truth  until 
the  General  handed  the  letter  to  her,  and  she  read, 
u  The  Prince  Royal  is  dead." 

What  was  to  be  done  ?  How  apprize  the  happy 
Princess  upstairs  that  she  was  a  widow  ? 

The  physician  left  in  charge  of  her  was  summoned, 
and  upon  his  declaring  that  the  news,  if  too  suddenly 
announced,  might  kill  her,  the  prefect  of  the  place 
was  also  sent  for,  and  with  his  help  a  so-called 
telegraphic  despatch  was  prepared  to  inform  her  that 
her  husband  was  not  dead,  but  dangerously  ill. 

Prepared  with  this,  and  her  own  heart  sinking  with 
terror  and  grief,  Madame  de  Montesquiou  mounted 
the  stairs  towards  the  Princess's  dressing-room,  for  the 


MARIE  AM  ELI E  AND  DUCHESS  OF  ORLEANS.  255 

dinner-hour  was  about  to  strike,  and  her  continued 
absence  would  in  itself  have  alarmed  her  Royal 
mistress.  The  latter  having  completed  her  toilette 
was  just  about  to  issue  forth  from  her  chamber,  all 
radiant  with  smiles,  and  gems,  and  flowers,  when 
Madame  de  Montesquiou  presented  herself. 

"Not  dressed  yet?"  laughingly  exclaimed  the 
Princess. 

Madame  de  Montesquiou  took  hold  of  both  her 
hands  ;  she  had  no  words  to  utter  at  the  moment,  but 
her  look  of  sorrow  quickly  aroused  the  fears  of  the 
Princess,  who  exclaimed,  "  Good  Heaven !  what  has 
happened  ? " 

And  it  was  then  that  Madame  de  Montesquiou 
said,  "  Dear  Madam,  the  Prince  Royal  is  seriously 
ill." 

A  cry  of  terror  burst  from  the  widow,  who  believed 
herself  still  to  be  a  wife,  and  then  she  desired  pre- 
parations to  be  made  for  her  instant  departure,  so 
that  she  might  "  nurse  "  the  husband  who  no  longer 
existed. 

She  fell  on  her  knees  and  prayed  to  God,  exclaim- 
ing, "  Take  pity  upon  me  !  Let  him  not  die  !  Thou 
knowcst  that  I  cannot  survive  him !  " 

Then  she  asked  to  see  the  telegram,  and  her  keen 
intelligence,  even  in  that  moment,  seemed  to  detect 


256        ILLUSTRIOUS    WOMEN  OF   FRANCE. 

some  irregularity  in  it  ;  yet  she  caught  again  at  hope 
as  the  moment  of  her  departure  drew  near ;  for,  said 
she,  "  If  he  be  well  by  the  time  I  reach  him,  how  he 
will  scold  me  ;  but  how  happy  I  shall  feel  to  be 
scolded ! " 

Then  terror  again  seized  her,  and  it  was  with  an 
agonized  sense  of  fear  that  she  journeyed  towards 
Paris  through  the  gloom  of  that  awful  night.  The 
triumphal  arches  which  had  been  erected  to  greet 
her  husband  and  herself  on  that  very  road  only  a 
few  days  before  were  still  there,  and  under  them  she 
had  now  to  pass  with  a  heart  torn  by  anxiety  as  to 
whether  he,  the  one  being  most  dear  to  her  on  earth, 
would  still  be  alive  to  greet  her  at  the  end  of  her 
wearisome  journey  back  to  him.  Madame  de 
Montesquiou,  who  was  at  the  side  of  the  Princess, 
was  in  continual  alarm  lest  some  incident  on  the  road, 
especially  when  passing  through  towns  or  villages, 
should  too  suddenly  inform  her  Royal  Highness  of  the 
horrible  catastrophe  which  had  befallen  her  ;  but  pre- 
sently, in  the  neighbourhood  of  Epinal,  she  beheld 
the  General  in  command  of  the  division  of  that  depart- 
ment approach. 

"  We  are  on  the  way  back  to  Paris,"  said  Madame 
de  Montesquiou  ;  he  was  silent. 

"  The  Princess,"  says  one  who  knew  and  loved  her 


MARIE  AMELIE  AND  DUCHESS  OF  ORLEANS.  257 

well,*  "prayed  and  wept  in  silence.  .  .  .  After 
midnight  she  was  informed  by  the  courier  that  a  car- 
riage in  the  direct  route  from  Paris  was  approaching 
them.  Instinctively  she  felt  that  now  the  moment  had 
come  when  she  would  know  her  fate.  'Open  the  door  !' 
she  exclaimed,  and  at  the  instant  when,  in  the  eager- 
ness of  her  terror,  she  was  with  difficulty  prevented 
from  rushing  out  of  her  own  carriage,  she  became  con- 
scious that  M.  Chomel,  the  respected  friend  and 
physician  of  herself  and  the  Royal  Family,  was 
walking  swiftly  towards  her." 

"  Monsieur  Chomel !  "  she  cried.  "  Oh,  God  !  the 
Prince  ! " 

"  Madame,"  gravely  replied  Monsieur  Chomel,  "  the 
Prince  is  no  longer  in  this  world." 

"  It  is  not  possible ! "  catching  to  the  last  at  hope 
against  all  hope, — "  it  is  not  possible  !  By  what 
malady  can  he  have  been  killed  so  soon  ?  If  he  be 
really  dead,  tell  me,  and  kill  me  too  at  once." 

"  A  dreadful  accident,"  explained  the  physician,  as 
his  emotion  would  allow  him  to  speak  :  "  a  horrible 
catastrophe — a  fall  from  a  carriage.  Consciousness 
instantly  left  him  after  the  accident,  but  yet  from 

*  By  the  lady  alluded  to  a  book  (here  quoted)  was  some  years  since 
anonymously  published  in  England,  entitled  "  Helen  of  Orleans,"  cor- 
roborating the  statement  of  Madame  de  Montesquiou — never  likely  to 
forget  the  sad  circumstances  here  above  stated. 

s 


258        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF   FRANCE. 

time  to  time  he  murmured  a  few  words  in  German ; 
and,  doubtless,  these  only  signs  of  rapidly  expiring 
life  were  addressed  to  your  Royal  Highness." 

"  It  cannot  be  true,"  she  gasped  ;  "  and,  ah  !  "  she 
continued,  as  though  still,  amidst  her  sobs  and  tears, 
seeking  some  ray  of  comfort,  whilst  turning  to 
Madame  de  Montesquiou,  "  the  sudden  illness  of 
which  you  told  me  before  we  started  ? " 

"  It  was  best  to  prepare  you,"  confessed  that  faithful 
friend.     "Madam,  you  will  forgive  the  invention." 

And  even  in  that  supreme  moment  of  agony  the 
thought  for  others  did  not  forsake  this  unhappy  Prin- 
cess, for  said  she.    "  What  courage  you  have  shown  !  " 

A  flood  of  agony  then  overwhelmed  her.  The 
carriage  in  which  she  sat  was  stopped  on  the  high- 
road amidst  the  darkness  of  night,  and  her  attendants, 
leaning  against  it  or  resting  on  its  steps,  had  no 
words  of  comfort  to  offer  her,  for  their  tears  also  were 
silently  flowing.  At  last,  at  dawn  of  day,  she  per- 
ceived General  Baudrand  near  her — the  brave  and 
loyal  old  man  who  had  been  the  guide  of  her  husband 
in  youth,  and  who  had  loved  him  as  though  he  had 
been  his  own  son. 

She  grasped  the  General's  hand,  and  exclaimed, 
"With  the  dawn  of  this  morning,  what  a  day  is 
beginning  for  me  !     .     .     .     You  loved  him  tenderly 


MARIE  AMELIE  AND  DUCHESS  OF  ORLEANS.  259 

.  .  .  but  even  you  did  not  know  all  the  goodness, 
the  patience,  the  gentleness  he  lavished  upon  me.  I 
have  lost  everything.  France,  too,  has  lost  the  one 
being  who  understood  and  loved  her  well.  I  cannot 
survive  him." 

Presently  she  spoke  of  her  two  children,  the  Comte 
de  Paris  and  the  Due  de  Chartres — those  children 
who  were  so  dear  to  her  for  the  sake  of  their  father. 
"  My  poor  children  !  "  she  cried  ;  "  but,"  added  she, 
"  lie  had  my  whole  heart." 

Again  two  nights  of  travel  and  misery,  until,  upon 
the  morning  of  the  16th  of  July,  this  newly- widowed 
Princess  arrived  at  Neuilly,  where  only  quite  lately 
she  had  been  so  happy,  and  from  whence  all  joy, 
as  from  life  itself,  had  henceforth  fled. 

Her  husband's  parents  and  her  own  young  children 
awaited  her  there.  In  the  arms  of  the  King  and 
Queen,  sorrowing  bitterly  for  the  sudden  loss  of  their 
eldest  son,  she  seemed  to  seek  and  find  a  refuge. 
"  Live  for  us,"  said  the  weeping  Queen  Marie  Amelie 
to  her  :  "  live  for  your  children  and  for  us." 

Her  first  wish  was  to  kneel  by  the  coffin  of  her 
husband,  and  to  gaze  upon  his  loved  remains.  The 
coffin  was  already  closed.  The  chapel  in  which  it 
stood  was  hung  with  black.  She  entered  that  chapel, 
and  knelt  down  in  prayer  near  the  unseen  body  of 


26o        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN    OF   FRANCE. 


the  beloved  husband,  who  was  so  near,  and  yet  so 
unutterably  far  from  her. 

She  embraced  his  children  in  an  agony  of  woe,  and 
then  silently  withdrew  to  her  own  chamber,  where  she 
clothed  herself  in  the  mourning  garb  which  henceforth 
became  habitual  to  her. 

Some  Princesses,  her  sisters-in-law,  had  met  her  on 
the  road  from  Plombieres,  and,  by  every  testimony  of 
affection,  they  sought  to  alleviate  her  deep  grief  for 
the  loss  of  their  brother  ;  but  it  was  in  the  society  of 
his  mother,  Queen  Marie  Amelie,  that  the  Duchesse 
d'Orleans  found  most  consolation,  and  it  is  in  the 
diary  of  her  Majesty  that  certain  circumstances 
attendant  on  the  accident  by  which  France  and  the 
Royal  Family  were  suddedly  stricken  are  thus 
recorded  (the  Queen  always  speaking  of  the  Due 
d'Orleans  as  "  Chartres,"  the  name  by  which  she 
had  been  accustomed  to  address  him  since  his 
infancy)  : — 

"  Upon  the  2nd  instant  Chartres  and  Helene 
started  for  Plombieres.  .  .  .  Upon  the  9th  he 
returned,  and  came  to  dine  with  us  at  Neuilly,  much 
occupied  by  election  affairs,  and  in  his  conversation 
manifesting  the  quickness  of  wit  and  warmth  of  heart 
which  were  habitual  to  him.  The  next  day,  my 
birthday,   he   returned     .     .     .     with    an    enormous 


MARIE  AMELIE  AND  DUCHESS  OF  ORLEANS.  261 

bouquet,  which,  he  said,  was  presented  to  me  in  the 
name  of  all  the  family.  He  attended  mass  and 
breakfasted  with  us.  He  was  so  gay, !  At  dinner  he 
was  seated  by  my  side  ;  he  rose  up,  proposed  my 
health  in  a  joyous  manner,  and  caused  the  band  to 
play  a  special  march  in  my  honour.  .  .  .  Upon 
the  nth  he  again  dined  and  spent  the  evening  with 
us,  always  occupied  in  mind  with  his  camp  and 
election  affairs.  .  .  .  Upon  the  12th  he  arrived 
about  4  o'clock.  .  .  .  We  talked  together  about 
Helene's  health,  concerning  which  he  tormented  him- 
self .  .  .  and  many  other  points — he  pleasantly 
terminating  each  one  of  them  by  the  refrain,  "  In 
short,  dear  Majesty,  we  always  end  by  being  of  the 
same  opinion  on  subjects  of  importance."  After 
dinner  we  took  a  turn  in  the  park,  he,  his  sisters 
(Victoire  and  Clementine),  his  brother  (Aumale),  and 
myself.*     I  took  his  arm  saying,  '  Come,  dear  support 

*  M.  Trognon,  formerly  preceptor  of  the  Prince  de  Joinville,  to 
whom  this  diary  of  Queen  Marie  Amelie  (originally  written  in  Italian) 
was  entrusted,  explains,  in  allusion  to  the  above  passage,  that  at  the  time 
to  which  it  refers,  the  Due  de  Nemours  was  inspecting  the  cavalry  at 
Luneville,  the  Prince  de  Joinville  was  at  Naples  with  the  Squadron, 
and  the  Due  de  Montpensier  at  Vincennes,  where  he  was  pursuing 
his  artillery  studies.  The  thanks  of  the  writer  of  the  text  are  also 
due  to  the  author  of  a  memoir  of  the  Duchesse  d'Orleans,  a  lady  who 
personally  knew  that  Princess,  and  whose  quotations  from  her  diary, 
&c,  were  some  years  since  translated  into  English  by  Mrs.  Austin. 


262        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN    OF   FRANCE. 


of  my  old  age.'  ...  It  was  somewhat  late  when 
we  re-entered  the  drawing-room  ;  much  company  had 
arrived  there.  He  stayed  conversing  until  ten  o'clock, 
when,  as  he  was  about  to  depart,  he  came  to  wish  me 
good  evening.  I  gave  him  my  hand,  and  said,  '  Thou 
wilt  come  to  see  us  before  starting  to-morrow  (for 
the  Camp),  and  he  answered,  '  Perhaps.'     .     .     . 

"  Upon  the  1 3th,  at  eleven  o'clock  (forenoon)  we 
were  about  to  get  into  the  carriage  in  order  to  return  to 
the  Tuileries.  I  was  following  the  King  into  the  red 
drawing-room  when  I  saw  Trouessart  (Commissioner 
of  Police)  speaking  in  a  whisper  to  General  Gourgaud, 
who,  with  a  gesture  of  terror,  went  and  spoke  in  a 
low  voice  to  the  King,  who  exclaimed,  'Ah !  my  God ! ' 

"  I  then  cried  out,  '  Something  has  happened  to 
one  of  my  children,  I  wish  to  know  the  truth.  Let 
nothing  be  concealed  from  me.' 

"  The  King  answered  me, '  Yes,  my  love  ;  Chartres 
in  coming  hither,  has  met  with  an  accident,  and  they 
have  carried  him  to  a  house  at  Sablonville.' 

"  Hearing  these  words,  I  began  to  run  like  a  mad- 
woman, notwithstanding  the  cries  and  remonstrances 
of  the  King  and  M.  de  Chabannes,  who  followed 
me.      My  strength  was  not  in  accord  with  my  heart. 

"Happily,  the  King,    in    a    carriage,   and   accom- 


MARIE  AMELIE  AND  DUCHESS  OF  ORLEANS.  263 


panied  by  his  sister,  overtook  me,  and  I  mounted 
with  them.  His  carriage  stopped  ;  we  entered  the 
inn ;  and  there,  in  a  little  room,  upon  a  mattress  lain 
upon  the  ground,  was  Chartres,  who  at  that  moment 
was  being  bled 

"The  death  rattle  had  just  begun I 

said  to  the  King,  '  For  mercy's  sake  let  a  priest  be 
fetched,  that  my  poor  child  may  not  die  like  a  dog.' 
And  I  went  for  a  moment  into  the  little  room  upon 
the  right,  where,  kneeling  down,  I  prayed  to  God 
from  the  bottom  of  my  soul,  that  if  a  victim 
were    needed,    He     would     take     me,      and    spare 

the    child   so   dear  to   us Soon  afterwards, 

Dr.  Pasquier  arrived.  I  said  to  him,  '  Sir,  if  you 
believe  the  danger  imminent,  I  beg  you  to  tell  me, 
so  that  my  child  may  receive  (the  sacrament  of) 
extreme  unction.'  He  bowed  his  head,  and  said  : 
'  Madame,  it  is  time.' 

"  The  Cure  of  Neuilly  entered,  and  administered 
the  Sacrament  to  him,  whilst  we  all  knelt  around  his 
pallet,  praying  and  weeping.  I  unfastened  from 
round  my  neck  a  little  cross,  which  contained  a  portion 
of  the   true  cross,  and  I  placed  it  in  the  hand    of 

my    poor   child M.    Pasquier    rose    and 

whispered  something  to  the  King ;  whereupon  that 
venerable  and  unfortunate  father,  his  face  bathed  in 


264        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN    OF   FRANCE. 


tears,  knelt  down  close  to  his  first-born  son,  and, 
tenderly  embracing  him,  cried  out :  '  Ah !  were  it 
but  myself  instead  of  this  one  ! ' 

"  I  also  drew  near,  and  kissed  our  child  thrice — 
once  for  myself,  once  for  (his  wife)  Helene,  and  once 
for  his  children. 

"  I  placed  the  little  cross,  symbol  of  our  redemption, 
upon  his  mouth,  and  afterwards  I  laid  and  left  It 
upon  his  heart." 

As  soon  as  possible  the  inanimate  remains  were 
transported,  with  all  due  marks  of  honour,  to  the 
chapel  at  Neuilly ;  the  King,  the  Queen,  and  other 
sorrowing  relatives  following  on  foot.  And  there, 
as  here  already  told,  the  widow  of  the  Prince  Royal, 
having  arrived  from  Plombieres,  knelt  down  beside 
his  coffin  ;  there,  as  said  his  mother,  whither  at  the 
moment  which  proved  fatal  to  his  life,  he  had  been 
travelling  in  the  fulness  of  health,  of  youth,  of  hope, 
and  happiness,  so  that  he  might  joyfully  embrace 
the  parents  who  now  wept  for  his  loss — a  loss  which 
France  had  cause  to  regret  for  herself. 

So,  at  least,  it  was  felt  when  by  the  revolution 
of  1848  Louis  Philippe  was  dethroned  as  suddenly 
as  by  the  revolution  of  1830  he  had  been  proclaimed 
king.  Like  his  predecessor,  Charles  X.,  he  abdicated 
in  favour  of  his  grandson. 


MARIE  AMELIE  AND  DUCHESS  OF  ORLEANS.  265 

Louis  Philippe,  with  Queen  Marie  Amelie,  the 
Duchesse  d'Orleans,  her  two  children,  and  other 
members  of  the  royal  family,  were  at  the  Tuileries 
when  the  revolution  of  February  declared  itself.  The 
Duchesse  d'Orleans,  since  the  great  sorrow  of  her 
life,  had  devoted  herself  entirely  to  the  care  of  her  two 
fatherless  children ;  and,  her  sensitive  nature  over- 
refined  by  the  suffering  consequent  on  her  premature 
widowhood,  she  had  for  some  time  past  "  felt  rather 
than  knew "  that  some  great  trouble  was  in  store 
for  France. 

But  when  the  King,  finding  the  Chateau  of  the 
Tuileries  surrounded  by  an  insubordinate  multitude, 
and  the  city  in  a  state  of  perilous  insurrection,  de- 
clared, in  presence  of  the  Queen  and  herself,  "  I 
abdicate  the  crown,  which  I  assumed  according  to 
the  will  of  the  nation,  in  favour  of  my  grandson,  the 
Comte  de  Paris,"  she  earnestly  besought  his  Majesty 
not  to  lay  such  a  burthen  upon  the  head  of  her 
child.  And  yet  it  was  not  from  timidity  that  the 
Duchesse  d'Orleans  implored  this ;  for,  as  many 
readers  still  remember,  it  was  almost  immediately 
after  having  uttered  words  which  betokened  her 
shrinking  from  power  that  she  demonstrated  a  courage 
almost  unprecedented  in  one  of  her  gentle  manners 
and  fragile  appearance. 


266        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN    OF  FRANCE. 

It  was  about  mid-day  that  the  King  declared  his 
intention  to  abdicate.  Previously,  he  had  ridden 
forth  in  view  of  the  troops  drawn  up  in  the  Place 
du  Carrousel,  and  in  the  courtyard  of  the  Tuileries  ; 
but  he  had  soon  returned  to  the  presence  of  the 
Queen  and  the  princesses,  who  had  anxiously  watched 
him  from  the  palace  windows,  and  expressed  his  con- 
viction— which  was  shared  by  as  many  of  his  sons 
who  were  then  in  Paris,  and  his  aides-de-camp — 
that  revolutionary  excitement  was  already  so  rife, 
nothing  could  save  France  from  self-destruction  but 
his  renunciation  of  the  throne.  To  Queen  Marie 
Amelie,  and  to  her  daughter-in-law,  the  Duchesse 
d' Orleans,  this  sudden  abdication  was  terrible.  Each 
of  these  princesses  had  experienced  the  worthless- 
ness  of  human  ambition ;  but  they  were  both  of 
them  heroic  women,  and  keenly  sensitive  in  behalf 
of  those  they  loved  as  to  every  untoward  incident 
surrounding  them.  They  threw  themselves  into  each 
other's  arms,  speechless  with  emotion. 

Those  about  the  King,  authorised  by  their  official 
position  to  give  him  political  advice,  urged  upon  him 
the  instant  need  of  the  step  he  was  already  prepared 
to  take.  "  Abdicate,  abdicate,"  said  they  ;  "there  is 
not  a  moment  to  lose." 

The  King  took  the  pen  handed  to  him,  and  signed 


S.A.R.    DUCHESSE    D'ORLEANS. 


MARIE  AMELIE  AND  DUCHESS  OF  ORLEANS.  267 

the  act  which  dethroned  him.  The  Queen  watched 
this  deed  done  ;  but  just  as  it  was  accomplished,  a 
stranger  to  the  court  who,  in  the  midst  of  fast- 
increasing  disorder,  had  found  his  way  to  the  royal 
presence,  cried  out,  rudely :  "  At  last  we  have  it ! " 
The  Queen  suddenly  rose,  confronted  this  individual 
with  the  lofty  determination  of  her  great  ancestress, 
Maria  Theresa,  and  asked,  in  an  accent  of  inde- 
scribable scorn  :  "  Who  are  you,  sir  ?  " 

"  Madame,"  replied  the  stranger,  "  I  am  a  pro- 
vincial magistrate." 

"Well,"  answered  her  Majesty,  indicating  {he  deed 
of  abdication,  "  you  '  have  it,'  as  you  say,  and  you 
will  repent  it." 

The  King  believed  that  by  immediately  quitting 
France  he  might  yet  save  her  from  anarchy,  and  he 
prepared  at  once  to  leave  the  Tuileries.  The  crowd 
had  already  forced  itself  into  the  Palace.  He  gave 
his  arm  to  the  Queen,  and  together  they  left  that 
abode  of  their  royalty,  on  foot,  down  the  steps  of  the 
Pavilion  de  l'Horloge,  and  across  the  gardens,  hoping 
to  find  a  conveyance  standing  for  hire  beyond  the 
gates.  But,  ere  following  them,  it  is  time  here  to 
return  to  their  widowed  daughter-in-law,  the  Duchesse 
d'Orleans. 

She  remained  at   the   Tuileries,  with   her  son,  the 


-68        ILLUSTRIOUS    WOMEN  OF   FRANCE. 

Comte  de  Paris,  on  one  side  of  her,  and  his  brother, 
the  Due  de  Chartres,  on  the  other. 

Some  deputies  arriving  from  the  parliamentary- 
Assembly  then  sitting,  begged  her  at  once  to  assume 
the  regency.  She  replied  that  it  was  impossible  for 
her  to  do  so ;  that  she  had  not  strength  for  such  a 
position.  They  again  urged  her,  in  behalf  of  French 
monarchy;  but  there  was  no  time  for  further  discus- 
sion at  that  moment,  for  a  ferocious  mob  had  already 
invaded  the  Tuileries  ;  and,  with  the  sense  of  imme- 
diate danger  to  herself  and  children,  her  courage  rose- 
She  Was  just  then  passing  down  a  long  gallery, 
leading  to  her  own  apartments  :  a  portrait  of  her 
husband  hung  there.  She  took  her  stand  beneath 
this  picture,  holding  her  sons  still  by  the  hand,  and 
without  an  attempt  at  flight,  which  still  was  possible 
for  her  and  for  them,  she  calmly  said  :  "  If  we  are  to 
die,  it  must  be  here." 

Her  brother-in-law,  the  Due  de  Nemours,  was  out- 
side, beyond  the  palace  garden  gates,  on  horseback, 
unrecognized  by  the  tumultuous  throng,  and  fear- 
fully anxious  for  the  safety  of  the  princess  still 
within  the  walls  of  the  palace.  He  knew  that  his 
parents  had  fled,  he  having  assisted  them  in  that 
flight  ;  but  his  favourite  brother's  widow,  her  children, 
what   was   to   become   of   them  ?     Piercing  through 


MARIE  AM  ELI E  AND  DUCHESS  OF  ORLEANS.  269 

the  insurgent  mob,  at  much  danger  to  themselves, 
MM.  Dupin  and  De  Grammont  succeeded  in  reach- 
ing the  princess  just  at  the  moment  when  the  sack- 
ing of  the  palace  in  which  she  stood  was  about 
to  begin.  They  hastily  made  her  understand  that 
her  brother  Nemours  was  courageously  doing  his  best 
to  ensure  safety  for  her  beyond  the  walls.  She  felt 
that  it  would  be  madness  any  longer  to  resist ;  that 
her  doing  so  would  only  expose  all  still  dear  to 
her  to  the  risks  of  a  horrible  death  ;  and  then,  though 
without  a  moment's  loss  of  the  calm  deportment 
which,  in  the  midst  of  danger,  was  nobly  evinced 
by  her,  she  passed  out  of  the  palace  where  she  had 
known  great  joy  and  bitter  grief,  her  children  still 
by  her  side,  and  the  two  brave  deputies  above  named 
still  guarding  her.  Bayonets  flashed  before  her,  but 
she  flinched  not  ;  and  almost  simultaneously  with 
her  leaving  the  Tuileries  the  mob  forced  its  way 
into  the  innermost  recesses  of  that  chateau,  in  a 
manner  which  could  scarcely  have  left  her  a  chance 
of  life,  had  she  been  still  where  she  was  standing 
but  a  few  minutes  before. 

Her  black  dress,  and  a  deep  veil  which  she  wore, 
helped  possibly,  by  concealing  her  form  and  features, 
to  secure  her  safety  in  the  midst  of  the  mob  outside  ; 
but   the    more   she   beheld    with   her   own  eyes   the 


270        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF  FRANCE. 

horror  and  confusion  of  the  capital  on  her  way  to 
the  Assembly,  the  more  she  heroically  determined 
not  to  recoil  any  longer  from  assuming  the  regency 
in  favour  of  her  son,  should  it  be  there  decreed  that 
France  might  still  be  saved  by  her  acceptance  of  the 
burthen. 

Wherefore,  to  show  herself  with  her  children  upon 
the  Boulevards  was  her  sudden  wish,  for  instinctively 
she  clung  to  the  idea  of  loyalty  on  the  part  of 
Frenchmen,  with  whose  chivalrous  characteristics  she 
did  not  confound  those  of  the  turbulent  mob  from 
which  she  had  just  escaped.  But  a  cry  (how  began 
it  would  be  difficult  to  say,  but  probably  at  the 
instigations  of  Messieurs  Dupin  and  Grammont — 
possibly  even  from  Ihe  Due  de  Nemours  himself,  who 
was  anxiously  watching  her,  though  far  enough  not 
to  increase  her  peril) — a  cry  was  suddenly  heard  : 
"  A  la  Chambre  !     To  the  Assembly  !" 

This  cry  was  vehemently  echoed,  and  the  Princess 
turned  in  the  direction  thus  indicated  to  her. 
Whereupon  other  shouts  were  heard.  "  Vive  la 
Duchesse  d'Orleans !  "  "Vive  le  Comte  de  Paris!" 
And  to  the  Assembly  she  went  on  foot,  her  elder 
son  by  her  side,  and  his  younger  brother  carried 
by  M.  Scheffer,  whose  National  Guard  uniform 
helped    to     protect    him.      The    people,    impressed 


MARIE  AMELIE  AND  DUCHESS  OF  ORLEANS.  271 

by  her  magnanimity,  fell  back  before  her  as  she 
advanced. 

Let  M.  de  Lamartine,  the  poet-politician,  whose 
eloquence  in  the  midst  of  the  Assembly  decided  the 
fate  of  France  during  that  eventful  day's  sitting,  here 
speak  of  what  he  saw  and  heard  there  : — 

"  The  lofty  door  which  faces  the  tribune,  to  the 
height  of  the  most  elevated  benches  of  the  salle, 
opens.  A  woman  appears  :  she  is  the  Duchesse 
d'Orleans.  She  is  attired  in  mourning.  Her  veil, 
half  raised,  reveals  her  countenance  impressed  by 
an  emotion  and  sadness  which  enhance  its  youth- 
fulness  and  charm.  Her  pale  cheeks  bear  traces 
of  a  widow's  tears,  of  a  mother's  anxieties.  It  is 
impossible  for  man  to  regard  those  features  without 
sympathy  :  all  resentment  against  monarchy  evapo- 
rates at  sight  of  it.  The  blue  eyes  of  the  Princess 
gaze,  as  though  for  a  moment  dazzled,  into  space, 

and    seem   to    seek  help Her   delicate   and 

slender  form  bows  in  acknowledgment  of  the  accla- 
mations which  greet  her.  A  slight  colour,  the  light 
of  hope  in  adversity,  and  of  joy  in  mourning, 
illumines  her  cheeks.  Her  smile  of  gratitude  and 
her  tears  break  forth  together.  She  sees  that  she  is 
amongst  friends.  With  her  right  hand  she  holds 
the  young  king,  who  trips  up  the  steps,  her  other 


272        ILLUSTRIOUS    WOMEN    OF    FRANCE. 

son,  the  little  Due  de  Chartres,  is  on  her  left  hand 
— children,  for  whom  their  catastrophe  is  a  spectacle. 
They  both  wear  black  cloth  vests,  with  turned-back 
white  collars,  and  look  like  living  portraits  by  Van 
Dyck  of  the  children  of  Charles  I.  The  Due  de 
Nemours  is  at  the  side  of  the  Duchesse  d'Orleans, 
faithful  to  the  memory  of  his  brother  in  his  nephews. 
....  The  countenance  of  this  Prince,  ennobled  by 
misfortune,  is  eloquent  of  the  courageous  but  modest 
satisfaction  of  a  duty  accomplished  at  the  peril  of 
his  ambition  and  his  life. 

"  Some  generals  in  uniform,  some  officers  of  the 
National  Guard,  are  behind  the  Princess.  With  timid 
grace  she  bows  to  the  Assembly  ;  motionless  she 
seats  herself  between  her  two  children,  at  the  foot 
of  the  tribune — innocent,  though  accused,  before  a 
tribunal  without  appeal,  which  had  just  heard  the 
cause  of  royalty  pleaded.  At  this  moment  that  cause 
was  gaining  in  the  eyes  and  hearts  of  all.  Nature 
will  always  triumph  over  policy  in  an  assembly  of 
men  moved  by  the  three  great  forces  of  woman  over 
the  human  heart — youth,  maternity,  pity." 

For  a  minute  the  Assembly,  engaged  just  before 
in  stormy  discussion,  was  silent  :  nobody  had  courage 
to  maintain  opinions  previously  uttered  against 
monarchy  in  presence  of  this  Princess  and  her  son, 


MARIE  AMELIE  AND  DUCHESS  OF  ORLEANS.  273 


who,  by  the  recent  abdication  of  Louis  Philippe,  was 
nominally  King  of  the  French.  Contradictory 
opinions  soon,  however,  made  themselves  heard  ; 
when  M.  Odilon  Barrot,  who  had  just  been  to  the 
Tuileries,  entered  with,  as  says  Lamartine,  the  fate 
of  both  republicanism  and  monarchy  hanging  upon 
his  lips.  "  Upon  the  head  of  a  child,"  he  declared, 
"rests  the  crown  of  July." 

"Vive  le  Comte  de  Paris  !  "  was  the  cry  which  arose 
from  amongst  that  vast  assembly,  but  it  was  mingled 
with  other  cries  antagonistic  to  it. 

The  Duchesse  d'Orleans,  however,  heard  that  cry, 
and  being,  as  it  seemed,  encouraged  to  do  so  by  a 
whisper  from  the  Due  de  Nemours,  she  rose  to  speak. 
The  Comte  de  Paris  had,  meantime,  bowed,  at  her 
suggestion,  to  the  Assembly,  which  had  just  echoed 
his  name,  and  which  had  already  applauded  that  ox 
his  mother,  although  hitherto  she  had  not  succeeded 
in  making  herself  heard. 

"  She  rises  again,"  says  Lamartine,  "with  more  evi- 
dent timidity,  and  holding  in  her  hand  a  paper. 

"  A  voice,  clear,  feminine,  vibrating,  but  full  of 
emotion,  is  heard  from  amidst  the  group  surrounding 
her.  It  is  the  Duchess  who  demands  the  right  to 
speak  to  the  representatives  of  the  nation.  Who 
could  have  resisted  that  voice'!     Who  would  not  have 


274        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF  FRANCE. 

felt  the  tears,  which  doubtless  would  have  accom- 
panied it,  fall  upon  his  heart  ? 

" '  We  are  come — my  son  and  I  are  come,"  began 
the  Princess,  but  the  feeling  of  dread  as  to  the  influ- 
ence she  was  about  to  gain  over  the  Chamber  caused 
various  of  its  members,  opposed  to  monarchy,  to 
interrupt  her. 

Lamartine  himself  was  at  last  called  to  the 
tribune.  He  bowed  low  towards  that  in  which 
the  Princess  was  seated.  In  peaceful  days  he  had 
avoided  her  society,  because,  as  a  politician,  he  feared 
the  charm  of  her  influence  over  him  as  a  poet.  As 
a  woman,  she  possessed  his  intense  sympathy ;  as 
the  representative  of  a  cause  to  which  he  was  strenu- 
ously opposed,  he  now  found  himself  in  the  painful 
position  of  her  enemy.  He  had  no  faith  in  the 
regency  at  that  time  ;  but,  as  he  asked  himself  in 
that  terrible  moment  of  conflict  betwixt  his  head 
and  his  heart — between  his  nature  as  poet  and  that  of 
politician,  "  Is  she  not  Queen  already  in  imagination  ? 
Is  she  not  equal  to  her  destiny  by  all  the  force  of  her 
genius,  her  soul,  and  her  tears  ?  "  Lamartine  knew 
that  on  his  voice  that  day  of  Louis  Philippe's  abdica- 
tion would  most  probably  depend  the  future  of 
France  ;  for,  as  he  himself  also  says  :  The  presence 
of  the  Duchess,  her  pallor,  her  beseeching  look,  her 


MARIE  AMELIE  AND  DUCHESS  OF  ORLEANS.  275 

children  pressed  against  her  heart,  were  in  themselves 
more  than  half  eloquent  enough  to  subjugate  an  as- 
sembly of  sensitive  men.  There  she  was  before  him, 
placed  "  between  a  tomb  and  a  throne,"  and  "  what 
a  triumph  of  the  heart  over  reason,  of  nature  over 
politics,"  to  have  proclaimed  his  devotion  to  her  ! 

But  Lamartine  believed  that  at  that  moment  of  a 
crisis  "  which  had  raised  the  people,  carried  away  the 
National  Guard,  overthrown  the  throne,  expulsed  the 
King,  invoked  universal  suffrage,  suspended  labour, 
and  thrown  two  hundred  thousand  starving  workmen 
upon  the  pavement,"  a  regency  would  never  have 
developed  peace,  and  have  been  fatal  to  the  Princess- 
Regent  herself. 

With  pain  at  his  heart,  Lamartine,  summoned  to 
the  tribune,  began  to  speak,  but  he  was  spared  the 
Brutus-like  self-suffering  of  finishing  his  speech,  be- 
cause, towards  its  close,  an  armed  mob  burst  into  the 
midst  of  the  Chamber,  and  cut  short  all  further 
discussion  by  violence.  "  Where  is  she  ?  where  is 
she  ? "  was  the  menacing  question  ;  and  almost  in- 
stantly weapons,  wielded  by  bare  sinewy  arms,  and 
shouldered  by  ruffians  mad  with  revolutionary  epi- 
demic thirst  for  blood,  black — many  of  them — in 
the  face  with  cannon-smoke  and  successful  sacking 
of  the  Tuileries  ;  some  drunk,  and  some  revengeful 

T    2 


276        ILLUSTRIOUS    WOMEN   OF  FRANCE. 

in  cool  blood,  pointed  with  deadly  aim  at  the 
Duchesse  d'Orleans  and  her  children. 

She  showed  no  sign  of  fear,  but  calmly  discussed 
with  those  immediately  about  her,  and  with  some 
deputies  who  had  succeeded  in  reaching  the  place 
where  she  sat,  as  to  the  course  best  to  pursue. 

The  Chamber  was  quickly  empty,  most  individuals 
composing  its  Assembly  having  sought  safety  in 
instant  flight.  Lamartine  still  stood  in  the  place 
where  this  sudden  irruption  had  found  him,  but  it  was 
not  long  tenable,  despite  his  popularity. 

The  Duchess  was  advised  to  go  at  once  to  the 
President's  house ;  and,  in  order  to  reach  it,  she  was 
guided  by  M.  Jules  de  Lasteyrie  over  benches  which 
descended  towards  an  exit  unknown  to  the  mob. 

It  was  impossible  to  reassemble  the  Chamber,  as 
she  at  one  time  hoped  to  do.  Dangers  on  every  side 
surrounded  her  ;  but  once  only  did  she  lose  the  calm- 
ness of  her  courage,  and  that  was  when,  for  a  brief  in- 
terval, her  son,  the  Comte  de  Paris,  was  snatched  away 
from  her,  and  her  other  child,  the  Due  de  Chartres, 
was  in  danger  of  being  trodden  to  death  by  the 
crowd.  The  one  restored  to  her  by  loyal  friends,  and 
by  them  assured  of  the  safety  of  the  other,  she  pro- 
ceeded to  the  Military  Asylum  of  the  Invalides  as  a 
place  of  refuge,  M.  de  Lasteyrie  driving  her  thither 


MARIE  AMELIE  AND  DUCHESS  OF  ORLEANS.  277 

in  an  open  carriage,  which  he  accidentally  found,  and 
two  National  Guards  accompanying  her. 

At  the  Invalides,  however,  there  was  no  rest  for 
her.  The  governor  of  that  hospital  was  ill,  and  she 
saw  that  in  any  case  it  was  not  capable  of  defence, 
as  for  the  moment  she  hoped  it  might  have  been, 
when  she  said,  "  At  all  events  this  loyal  abode  will 
do  to  die  in  ;  "  and  then,  turning  to  the  Comte  de 
Paris,  she  proudly  added,  "  A  king,  if  only  a  king 
nine  years  of  age,  ought  to  know  how  to  die." 

But  she  would  not  allow  the  lives  of  others  use- 
lessly to  be  exposed  for  her  or  the  cause  of  her  son 
and  upon  the  evening  of  that  terribly  eventful  day  she, 
still  guarded  by  her  brother-in-law,  Nemours,  and 
other  faithful  friends,  who  gloried  in  running  great 
risks  for  her  sake,  left  the  Invalides,  on  her  way  out  of 
Paris,  on  foot,  having  previously  refused  to  disguise 
herself,  "  because,"  said  she,  "  if  I  be  captured  I  will 
be  captured  as  myself." 

It  was  feared  that  the  elegance  of  her  dress,  albeit 
only  a  black  dress,  would  betray  her.  She  consented 
to  have  its  costly  lace  stripped  off,  and  then  she  set 
forth  on  her  dreary  journey  towards  the  frontier  of 
the  land  which  she  had  entered  in  hope  and  happi- 
ness as  a  bride,  but  which  she  now  left  a  widow 
and  an  exile. 


278        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN    OF  FRANCE. 

To  the  last  moment  of  her  stay  in  France,  the 
land  of  her  adoption  and  her  love,  she  forgot  not 
her  royal  duties  towards  the  son  of  her  husband 
whom  she  never  ceased  to  mourn ;  "  For,"  said 
she  to  loyal  French  friends,  who  accompanied  her 
on  the  few  first  stages  of  the  way,  and  then  were 
forced  to  bid  her  a  painful  farewell,  "if  the  day 
arrive,  sooner  or  later,  that  you  need  me,  I  will  come 
back." 

Her  prayers  were  always  for  France  and  for  her 
children.  She  freely  forgave  the  seeming  faults  by 
which  the  former  had  expulsed  her ;  and,  though  of 
meek  and  gentle  disposition  as  woman,  her  one  ambi- 
tion as  princess  was  to  train  her  sons  to  become  some 
day  worthy  of  the  high  destiny  to  which  they  had 
been  born. 

She  turned  her  face  towards  the  land  of  her  birth, 
but  determined,  as  a  French  princess  by  marriage, 
that  she  would  accept  no  favours,  either  for  herself  or 
for  her  two  sons  who  accompanied  her,  from  German 
relatives.  Whilst  journeying  on,  therefore,  under 
painful  vicissitudes,  too  numerous  here  to  mention,  she 
found  herself  and  her  children,  at  Cologne  and  else- 
where, in  very  straitened  circumstances. 

Her  step-mother,  whom  she  loved  as  though  she 
had  been  her  own,  journeyed  to  meet  her — a  touching 


MARIE  AMELIE  AND  DUCHESS  OF  ORLEANS.  279 

proof  of  maternal  devotion  on  the  part  of  this  aged 
and  noble  lady. 

By  her,  and  more  for  her  sake  than  her  own,  the 
Duchesse  d'Orleans  consented  to  "accept  the  shelter 
of  a  roof,"  and  at  last  found  something  like  a  home 
at  Eisenach. 

Meantime,  her  "  other  mother,"  Queen  Marie 
Amelie,  had  been  cruelly  anxious  about  her,  and 
that  there  was  mutual  cause  for  solicitude  let  the 
exiled  King  Louis  Philippe  here  explain,  merely  pre- 
facing that  explanation  by  mention  of  the  facts  that 
after  the  flight  of  the  aged  King  and  Queen  from 
the  Tuileries,  after  their  travelling  under  dangerous 
circumstances,  in  various  hired  conveyances — after 
their  pausing  at  the  royal  burial-place  of  Dreux,  there 
to  bid  farewell  to  the  tombs  of  their  dead  children, 
and  where  the  Queen  kissed,  whilst  lingering  espe- 
cially near  it,  that  enclosing  the  remains  of  her  first- 
born son,  the  Due  d'Orleans,  declaring  her  belief  at 
this  sad  moment  preceding  her  exile,  that  if  he  had 
lived,  all  the  horrors  of  revolution,  then  rife  in  France, 
would  not  have  happened — after  a  brief,  but  painfully 
necessitous  separation  between  these  royal  fugitives 
on  their  way  from  France — a  separation  which  secured 
the  safety  of  the  King,  but  tore  the  heart  of  the 
Queen  with  terror   as  to  his  fate  (she  being  mean- 


280        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN  OF   FRANCE. 

time  condemned  to  live  in  an  obscure  residence  in  a 
remote  spot,  where  hours  of  anxiety  were  shared  only 
by  her  one  female  attendant  and  General  Dumas, 
the  devoted  friend  of  the  King),  they  at  last  met  again, 
and,  disguised,  were  about  to  embark  from  Havre  to 
England,  after  a  short  preliminary  steamboat  journey 
up  the  Seine.  But  let  the  exiled  King,  who  was  tra.- 
velling  under  the  name  of  William  Smith,  here 
speak  : 

"  The  night  was  dark,  and  as  we  were  the  first  to 
enter  the  boat,  I  placed  myself  on  the  starboard, 
between  Mr.  Jones  and  Thuret,*  upon  a  bench  backed 
by  ship-netting.  The  Queen  seated  herself  upon  the 
larboard,  and  passengers  walking  to  and  fro  helped 
to  separate  us 

"There  was  one  man  going  hither  and  thither 
with  a  lanthorn,  asking  to  look  at  the  passengers' 
tickets,  and  also  seeking  a  sort  of  subscription  in 
behalf  of  a  band  of  music,  with  singers  and  song- 
stresses. .  .  .  But  to  each  demand  made  to  me 
I  invariably  replied,  always  in  English,  that  I  did 
not  understand   French,  though  Mr.  Jones,  towards 

*  Mr.  Jones,  of  whom  the  King  here  speaks,  in  the  text  above,  was 
the  Vice-Consul  at  Havre,  who  had  combined  with  Mr.  Feathers- 
tonhaugh  (Chief  Consul)  in  assisting  the  flight  of  Louis  Philippe  on 
board  the  "Express,"  then  lying  off  Havre.  Thuret,  at  whose  side 
the  King  sat,  was  his  Majesty's  valet-de-chambre. 


MARIE  AMELIE  AND  DUCHESS  OF  ORLEANS.  281 

whom  I  pointed,  would  say  or  do  all  that  was  neces- 
sary. .  .  .  Upon  the  quay  of  Havre  were  a  great 
many  people.  Mr.  Featherstonhaugh  was  there 
awaiting  me ;  and,  said  he  to  me,  whilst  cordially 
shaking  my  hand,  '  Well,  uncle,  how  are  you  ? ' 
'  Quite  well,  thank  you,  George,'  replied  I  to  him  ; 
and,  continuing  to  talk  in  English,  we  made  for  the 
point — the  most  distant  of  the  quay — where  the 
Express  awaited  us ;  passing,  meantime,  close  to  a 
gendarme,  who  neither  asked  me  for  my  passport, 
nor  paid  any  attention  either  to  me  or  the  Queen, 
who  was  following  at  a  short  distance  behind  me. 

"  We  reached  a  little  covered  staircase,  down  which 
we  descended.  At  the  foot  of  it  we  found  ourselves 
in  the  inner  cabins  of  the  Express.  Then  Mr.  Feather- 
stonhaugh said  to  me,  whilst  pressing  my  hand, 
'  Now,  thank  God,  you  are  safe  ; '  and  I  replied  by 
the  same  expression  of  gratitude  to  God  and  towards 
those  who  had  so  effectually  contributed  in  with- 
drawing me  from  the  cruel  position  in  which  I  had 
found  myself  for  a  week  past.  The  Queen  arrived 
almost  at  this  same  moment ;  her  emotion  was  evi- 
dent, and  she  threw  herself  into  my  arms.  Messieurs 
Benson  and  Adolphe  d'Houdetot  *  prostrated  them- 

*  Brother  of  Count   Iloudetot,   the   King's  aide-de-camp,    and  the 
Receiver  of  Finance  at  Havre. 


282        ILLUSTRIOUS    WOMEN   OF   FRANCE. 

selves  at  her  feet,  and  joined  in  our  thanks  to  Provi- 
dence." 

It  was  quite  time  that  the  King,  who  thus  narrates 
his  own  adventures,  was  on  board  the  British  Express ; 
for  close  upon  his  fugitive  steps  detectives,  in  service 
of  the  newly-cradled  Republic,  were  following. 

Mr.  Featherstonhaugh  thus  rescued  his  Majesty 
(who  had,  since  his  flight  from  the  Tuileries,  succes- 
sively assumed  the  names  of  M.  Lebrun  and  Mr. 
William  Smith,  pretending  under  the  latter  to  be  the 
uncle  of  Mr.  Featherstonhaugh),  and  now  at  last 
assured  of  the  safety  of  the  King  and  Queen  on  board 
an  English  vessel,  he  told  them  that  their  sons,  the 
Due  de  Montpensier  and  the  Due  de  Nemours,  with 
various  other  members  of  their  large  family,  were 
already  safe  In  England.  Great  was  the  joy  of  their 
Majesties  on  hearing  this  intelligence  ;  but  with  none 
the  less  anxiety  did  they  ask — and  for  the  moment 
ask  in  vain — what  had  become  of  their  daughter-in- 
law,  the  Duchesse  d'Orleans,  and  her  children. 

The  Express  sailed  forth  safely  from  Havre,  but 
such  storms  were  raging  at  the  time  that  it  was  not 
until  the  morning  of  the  third  day  of  March,  and 
after  a  dangerous  passage  across  the  Channel,  Queen 
Marie  Amelie  and  her  husband  arrived  at  Newhaven. 
They  were  greeted  by  all  classes  of  people  with  the 


MARIE  AMELIE  AND  DUCHESS  OF  ORLEANS.  283 

enthusiastic  cry  of  "  Welcome  to  England  !  "  King 
Louis  Philippe  at  once  wrote  to  Queen  Victoria  that 
he  had  ventured  to  seek  shelter  on  her  shores,  and 
that,  remembering,  as  he  gratefully  did,  the  hospi- 
tality formerly  rendered  in  Great  Britain  to  him  as 
the  Due  d'Orleans,  he  trusted  that  now,  as  Comte 
de  Neuilly,  he  might  still  find  a  home  on  British 
territory. 

An  answer  to  this  appeal  reached  the  writer  of  it 
as  soon  as  possible,  and  their  exiled  Majesties  were 
deeply  touched  by  the  noble  generosity  of  the  Queen 
of  England,  who  offered  the  well-known  residence  of 
Claremont  to  them  as  an  instant  retreat  for  themselves 
and  family. 

Thither  Louis  Philippe  and  Queen  Marie  Amelie 
bent  their  way,  but  here,  ere  entering  Claremont  with 
them,  let  the  reader  pause  on  its  threshold  to  remem- 
ber how  an  intimate  friendship  had,  some  few  years 
before,  been  formed  between  them  and  Queen  Victoria, 
when  the  latter,  at  that  time  radiant  with  happiness 
as  wife,  and  mother,  and  Queen,  visited  France. 

"  What  a  delightful  visit ! "  exclaimed  she,  when 
speaking  'of  it  to  Lady  Cowley,  the  wife  of  her  own 
then  ambassador  ;  "  what  a  delightful  visit !  "  M. 
Guizot  still  (1873)  declares  that  never  in  his  life 
can   he   forget  the  look  of   life,  and    love,    and  joy 


284        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF  FRANCE. 

which  animated  her  Majesty  whilst  eagerly  entering 
into  all  the  amusements,  simple  though  some  of  them 
were,  prepared  for  her  during  that  brief  but  happy 
stay  at  the  Chateau  d'Eu.  And  M.  Auguste  Tro- 
gnon,  the  devoted  adherent  of  the  Orleanist  French 
royal  family,  a  sharer  in  its  exile,  and  the  trusted 
friend  of  Queen  Marie  Amelie  to  the  last,  here, 
speaking  of  that  visit,  explains  that  there  was  some- 
thing in  the  intercourse  of  the  septuagenarian  King 
with  his  visitor,  the  Queen,  then  but  twenty-four  sum- 
mers old,  a  mingled  expression  of  paternity  and 
respect  which  could  not  fail  to  impress  the  beholder. 
Neither  did  her  Britannic  Majesty  find  herself  less 
happy  in  the  society  of  the  Queen  of  the  French,  for 
the  latter  was  unwearied  in  her  kindly  manifesta- 
tions of  affectionate  welcome,  whilst  the  charm  of 
her  grand  though  unaffected  manners  —  of  that 
dignity  which  had  caused  Talleyrand  to  style  her 
"the  last  grande  dame  of  France,"  gave  an  air  of 
exquisite  refinement  to  every  scene  in  which  she  took 
a  part,  though  that  scene  lay  only  in  the  midst  of  her 
own  family  circle. 

Neither  ought  it  here  to  be  forgotten  that  a  cordial 
intimacy  had  subsisted  between  the  Duke  of  Kent, 
father  of  Queen  Victoria,  and  Louis  Philippe,  when 
that  French  prince,    during  the  political  proscription 


MARIE  AMELIE  AND  DUCHESS  OF  ORLEANS.  285 

of  his  youth,  had  resided  in  England.  Nor  need  any- 
English  reader  be  reminded  that  Leopold,  King  of 
the  Belgians,  widower  of  the  Princess  Charlotte  of 
England,  kinsman  to  Queen  Victoria,  and  formerly 
resident  at  Claremont,  had,  by  his  second  marriage 
with  the  French  Princesse  Louise,  become  son-in-law 
to  King  Louis  Philippe. 

Additional  ties  of  relationship  had  also  been 
recently  formed  between  the  royal  family  of  England 
and  the  Orleans  branch  of  the  royal  family  of  France, 
just  at  the  time  when  the  then  young  and  happy 
Queen  Victoria  first  visited  France,  by  the  marriage 
of  the  Princesse  Clementine  with  the  Duke  Augustus 
of  Saxe-Coburg  Gotha. 

It  is  not  likely  that  the  Queen  of  England,  loyal 
as  she  is  in  her  affections,  forgot  any  of  the  facts  here 
above  glanced  at,  when,  in  the  generosity  of  her 
heart,  and  in  accordance  with  her  noble  power  ot 
sympathy,  she  offered  Claremont  as  a  home  to  her 
old  friends,  the  King  and  Queen  of  the  French,  im- 
mediately after  their  exile  from  France  by  the  revo- 
lution of  1848. 

They  gratefully  accepted  the  offer  ;  but  nevertheless 
it  was  in  a  state  of  much  distress  that  they  first 
entered  the  home  provided  for  them  ;  for  not  only 
were  they  deprived  almost  of  the  daily  necessaries  of 


286        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF  FRANCE. 

life  by  their  unpremeditated  flight  from  the  Tuileries, 
but  their  hearts  were  still  racked  by  anxiety  as  to  the 
fate  of  some  of  their  children  ;  for  the  Due  d'Aumale 
and  the  Prince  de  Joinville  were  in  Algeria  at  the 
time  when  their  father  was  dethroned  by  sudden 
revolution  (both  of  them  having  previously  manifested 
great  courage  in  Africa  and  elsewhere),  and,  as  yet, 
no  intelligence  of  the  fate  of  these  two  brave  Princes 
had  reached  England. 

Upon  the  night,  however,  of  the  20th  or  21st  of 
March,  they  arrived  at  Claremont,  to  the  great  joy  of 
the  Queen,  who,  just  about  to  seek  rest  at  the 
moment,  ran  down  into  the  hall,  so  as  to  be  the  first 
to  welcome  them  to  this  home  of  her  and  their  exile. 
They  found  her  bereft  of  all  luxuries  habitual  to  her, 
but  she  accepted  her  fate  with  noble  resignation  ;  her 
habitual  piety  forbade  complaint ;  her  mind  was  too 
lofty  for  the  expression  of  any  regret  about  "  trifles,' 
as  she  deemed  most  mundane  things  ;  and,  still  clad 
in  the  plain  black  dress  which  she  happened  to  be 
wearing  at  the  moment  she  quitted  her  palace  of  the 
Tuileries,  and  compelled — for  want  of  space — to  live 
almost  in  the  midst  of  her  own  limited  household, 
she  never  appeared  more  truly  "  grande  dame  "  than 
at  that  time  ;  and,  as  for  the  dress  just  mentioned, 
she  learnt  so  to  respect  it  as  being  that  last  worn  by 


MARIE  AMELIE  AND  DUCHESS  OF  ORLEANS.  287 

her  in  France,  that  here,  it  may  as  well  at  once  be 
mentioned,  she  now  (1873)  still  wears  it  in  her  English 
grave  ;  for  by  her  own  desire  she  was  clothed  in  it  for 
her  burial. 

Yes  ;  the  Due  d'Aumale  and  the  Prince  de  Join- 
ville  had  arrived  at  Claremont  ;  others,  also,  of  the 
French  Princes,  their  children,  their  wives,  and  sisters. 

But  the  Duchesse  d'Orleans  and  her  children,  where 
were  they  ? 

Not  until  the  early  summer  of  1849  did  they  arrive, 
having,  as  here  previously  explained,  remained  at 
Eisenach  after  their  forced  flight  from  France.  Since 
that  time  the  Duchesse  d'Orleans  had  written  (date, 
July,  1848)  the  following  words,  which  are  strangely 
applicable  to  much  more  recent  times  : — 

" The  men  now  in  power  have  saved 

France  ;  they  are  re-establishing  order,  they  are 
taking  wise  and  energetic  measures  ;  but  .... 
I  fear  that  the  country  is  destined  to  pass  through 
many  successive  crises  before  it  is  settled  on  any  solid 
and  stable  foundation.  Poor  France  !  Great  in  her 
misfortunes,  great  in  her  glory ;  extreme  in  every- 
thing ! " 

When  Queen  Marie  Amelie  and  her  widowed 
daughter-in-law,  Helen  of  Orleans,  at  last  met  again 
in  England,  the  land  of  their  exile,  profound  was  the 


288        ILLUSTRIOUS    WOMEN   OF  FRANCE. 

emotion  on  both  sides.  Could  either  of  these  royal 
women — the  one  still  young,  the  other  quite  old — 
forget  the  grave  of  the  one  mutually  dear  to  them — 
that  far-off,  and  to  them  inaccessible  grave  of  the  hus- 
band of  the  one,  the  son  of  the  other  ?  The  memory 
of  the  beloved  being  reposing  in  that  grave — calm 
amidst  the  revolution  and  fiercely  feverish  changes 
of  the  country  over  which  it  was  hoped  that  he  would 
have  reigned  as  King,  united  these  two  women — his 
widow  and  his  mother, — despite  all  differences  in 
their  faith,  and  age,  and  native  land.  His  children, 
also,  were  living  bonds  of  union  between  them. 

Queen  Marie  Amelie  delighted  in  observing  the 
growth  and  mental  development  of  these  two  chil- 
dren,— the  Comte  de  Paris  and  the  Due  de  Chartres, 
when  their  mother  brought  them  to  her  at  Claremont ; 
nor  did  her  exiled  Majesty  forget  even  the  loving 
sobriquet  which,  in  happier  days,  at  the  Tuileries,  she 
had  given  to  the  Due  de  Chartres,  for,  resting  her 
hand  upon  his  young  head,  she  still  called  him  "  My 
little  Chevalier." 

The  Duchesse  d'Orleans,  although  in  religion  her* 
self  a  Lutheran,  was  most  conscientious  in  educating 
these  two  sons  of  hers  in  the  faith  of  their  forefathers. 
Strict  in  morality,  pure  as  a  child  herself  in  conduct, 
undeviating  in  the  practical   exercise  of  her  own  faith, 


MARIE  AMELIE  AND  DUCHESS  OF  ORLEANS.  289 

she  nevertheless  was  so  liberal  in  that  noble  heart  of 
hers,  which  had  been  deeply  wounded,  both  as  woman 
and  as  princess,  that  she  was  incapable  of  limiting 
her  belief  in  the  mercies  of  the  God  whom  she  sought 
as  a  refuge  to  any  one  of  the  many  forms  by  which, 
in  all  sincerity,  His  numberless  creatures  seek  to 
worship  Him.  When,  therefore,  the  time  came  for 
her  first-born  son,  the  Comte  de  Paris,  to  receive  his 
first  Communion  (July  20,  1850),  she,  having  already 
shared  with  him  the  prayerful  observances  preliminary 
to  that  event,  was  present  upon  the  occasion.  But, 
thanks  to  the  memory  of  one  (herebefore  quoted) 
who  personally  knew  and  loved  her.  well,  let  the 
princess  here  speak  for  herself: — 

"To  the  little  French  chapel  in  London  we  went, 
followed  by  the  King  and  Queen,  their  family,  and 
the  many  faithful  friends  who  had  come  expressly 
from  France  to  witness  the  event.  Paris  was  placed 
at  the  foot  of  the  Altar,  before  a  Pric-Diai  sur- 
mounted with  a  lighted  taper,  between  the  King  and 
me.  On  his  left  arm  he  wore  a  white  scarf,  the 
emblem  of  purity.  After  a  touching  exhortation 
addressed  to  him  by  the  Abbe  Guellcs,  Mass  was 
performed  by  Dr.  Wiseman,  who,  before  the  moment 
of  Communion,  also  addressed  some  solemn  words  to 
him. 


290        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN    OF  FRANCE. 

"  The  dear  boy  was  led  to  the  Altar  by  the  Abbe 
Guelles*  With  a  devout  reverence  my  son  knelt 
down,  and  received  the  body  of  the  Lord.     .     .     . 

"  As  he  was  passing  back  on  his  way  to  the  Prie- 
Dieu,  the  King  raised  his  hand  in  token  of  his  blessing, 
but  the  dear  child  turned  towards  me,  and  never  shall 
I  forget  the  earnest  look  with  which  he  regarded  me. 
.  .  .  We  left  the  chapel.  ...  At  two  o'clock 
we  all  returned  thither — all  except  the  King,  whose 
health  requires  great  care. 

"Vespers  were  chanted,     .     .     .     after  which  Paris 

read  the  renewal  of  his  baptismal  vows 

After  this  we  returned  home,  with  hearts  full  of  grati- 
tude to  God,  who  loves  and  blesses  His  children." 

Neither  Queen  Marie  Amelie  nor  the  Duchesse 
d'Orleans  could  possibly  forget  upon  this  day,  which 
marked  an  epoch  in  the  life  of  the  young  Comte  de 
Paris,  how  his  baptism  had  been  performed  with  such 
pomp  at  Notre  Dame,  that  the  ceremonial  of  it  was 
said  to  have  afforded  the  first  occasion  "when  the 
royalty  of  July  showed  itself  in  that  cathedral  at  the 

*  Before  the  departure  of  the  family  of  King  Louis  Philippe  from  the 
Tuileries,  the  spiritual  guidance  of  the  Comte  de  Paris  was  entrusted 
to  the  Abbe  Guelles.  Since  then  this  much  reverenced  ecclesiastic  had, 
from  time  to  time,  resumed  his  sacred  duties  towards  the  young  Prince, 
whether  in  Germany  or  in  England,  according  to  circumstances 
attendant  on  the  exile  of  the  Duchesse  d'Orleans,  and  by  which  her 
place  of  abode  was  dictated. 


MARIE  AMELIE  AND  DUCHESS  OF  ORLEANS.  291 

foot  of  altars  "  ;  and  for  the  Queen  there  was  then 
a  double  cause  of  thankfulness,  because  the  Due 
d'Aumale,  at  the  head  of  his  regiment  in  Africa, 
was  about  that  time  saved  first  from  the  danger 
of  a  severe  illness,  and  afterwards  from  attempted 
assassination. 

Memories  such  as  these  were  closely  associated  with 
the  event  of  the  Comte  de  Paris  receiving  his  first 
Communion  "  in  the  little  French  chapel  in  London  "  ; 
but  not  long  after  he  had  done  so,  the  gravest  anxie- 
ties beset  the  royal  exiles  at  Claremont  regarding  the 
evidently  fast  failing  health  of  the  King,  and  also 
concerning  that  of  his  daughter,  the  Queen  of  the 
Belgians— that  daughter  so  tenderly  beloved  by  all 
her  family,  and  so  constantly,  if  possible,  present 
whenever  any  member  of  it  was  in  sorrow,  need,  or 
sickness,  that  she  was  regarded  by  her  parents  and 
kindred  as  "  the  angel." 

The  Duchesse  d'Orleans  had,  in  the  course  of 
this  year  (1850),  taken  up  her  abode  at  Richmond  ; 
far  from  constitutionally  strong  herself,  various  changes 
of  climate  were  occasionally  proposed  to  and  some- 
times adopted  by  her,  but  her  anxiety  and  her  duty, 
as  she  deemed  it,  were  with  her  dead  husband's 
relatives,  and  therefore  the  country  of  their  exile  be- 
came eventually  her  country. 

r  2 


292        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN    OF   FRANCE. 

Dr.  de  Mussy,  since  well  known  and  highly  esteemed 
in  London,  was  the  medical  attendant  of  the  royal 
exiles  even  before  the  last  illness  of  Louis  Philippe ; 
and  the  circumstances  of  his  introduction  at  Clare- 
mont  were  originally  so  remarkable  as  doing  credit  to 
his  professional  perception,  that  to  relate  them  it  may 
be  pardonable  here  to  go  back  in  point  of  time. 

Not  long  after  their  ex-Majesties  had  taken  up  their 
abode  at  Claremont,  the  Queen,  the  princes  and  prin- 
cesses, and  various  members  of  the  household  were 
seized  with  a  distressing  illness,  causing  constant  pains 
and  sickness,  but  of  which  the  cause  seemed  inscru- 
table. By  some  these  miseries  were  attributed  to 
change  of  climate,  by  others  to  mental  distress  con- 
sequent upon  exile  ;  but  at  last  the  celebrated  M. 
Chomel  (formerly  medical  adviser  at  the  Tuileries) 
arrived  from  Paris  at  Claremont,  and  with  him  he 
brought  his  pupil,  Dr.  Henri  Gueneau  de  Mussy. 

The  latter,  having  investigated  symptoms,  at  once 
declared  his  opinion  that  they  were  the  result  of 
poison.  It  was  a  bold  thing  to  say,  because  if  poison, 
and  that  to  such  an  extent  as  to  peril  the  lives  of  a 
whole  family — guests,  so  to  speak,  of  the  Queen  of 
England — by  whom  and  why  administered  ? 

Dr.  de  Mussy  was  nevertheless  inflexible  on  the 
point,  and  forthwith  proceeded  to  examine  the  sanitary 


MARIE  AMELIE  AND  DUCHESS  OF  ORLEANS.  293 

condition  of  Claremont,  its  air  and  water.  Having 
applied  various  tests  in  vain,  he  at  last  descended  into 
the  kitchens  of  the  chateau,  and  there  he  found  reason 
to  suspect  that  in  the  water  used  for  culinary  purposes 
was  the  source  of  evil.  He  consequently  caused  the 
pipes  through  which  this  water  was  conveyed  into  the 
house  to  be  laid  bare,  and  in  them  (owing  most  pro- 
bably to  repairs  at  some  time  or  other  done  to  them 
by  unscientific  workmen)  was  a  deposit  of  poisonous 
lead  {acetate  de  plomb),  which  sufficiently  explained 
the  apparently  epidemic  illness  of  the  royal  sufferers, 
who  henceforth  became  his  patients. 

Without  further  entering  here  into  the  particulars 
of  this  episode  which  first  taught  them  to  appreciate 
his  keen  intelligence,  it  need  only  be  said  that  Dr.  de 
Mussy  was  henceforth  inseparably  connected  with  the 
various  events,  whether  of  life  or  death,  awaiting  his 
illustrious  friends  at  Claremont.  Therefore,  when  in 
the  month  of  August,  1850,  the  King  had  reason  to 
suppose  that  the  last  scene  of  his  long  and  eventful 
life  was  close  at  hand,  it  was  Dr.  de  Mussy  who 
attended  him,  and  upon  whom  the  painful  duty  de- 
volved of  informing  the  Queen  that  no  human  skill 
could  avert  the  widowhood  which  awaited  her.  The 
Queen  forthwith  sought  the  divine  strength  which  she 
needed.     At  the  foot  of  the  altar,  which  had   been 


294        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN    OF   FRANCE. 

consecrated  according  to  her  creed  in  the  abode  of  her 
exile,  she  knelt  ;  for  to  her  it  was  of  supreme  import- 
ance that  her  husband,  the  father  of  her  children,  he 
beside  whom  she  had  spent  a  faithful  lifetime  of 
mingled  joy  and  grief  since  the  far-off  day  of  their 
nuptials  at  Palermo,  should  die — if  die  he  must — in 
full  confession,  and  according  to  all  the  rites  of  the 
Roman  Catholic  faith ;  and  she  believed  it  to  be  her 
most  solemn  duty  to  do  all  that  she  could  do  in  help- 
ing to  achieve  this  result.  She  sought  strength  in 
prayer;  then,  kneeling  by  the  bedside  of  her  husband, 
she  revealed  to  him  the  immediate  danger  of  his  con- 
dition, and  besought  him  to  seek  help  beyond  the  aid 
of  man.  But  it  is  fitting  that  one  who  personally 
participated  in  the  sad  scenes  of  that  eventful  time 
should  here  speak  of  it  as  follows  : — "  Although  never 
afraid  of  death  he "  (the  King)  "  still  clung  to  life ; 
as  head  of  his  family,  as  husband,  even  if  not  as  King, 
he  believed  himself  still  to  be  of  some  use  in  this 
world.  He  had  desired  to  live  ;  but  from  the  moment 
that  the  testimony  of  the  doctor  confirmed  that  of 
the  Queen,  and  when,  notwithstanding  all  that  gentle 
language  could  do  to  soften  the  announcement  to  him, 
he  comprehended  the  decree  which  was  signified  to 
him,  '  That  is  to  say,  I  may  take  leave/  said  he 
in  a  calm  tone  of  gentle  gaiety,  and  henceforth  he 


MARIE  AMELIE  AND  DUCHESS  OF  ORLEANS.  295 

thought  but  of  dying.  Nevertheless,  it  came  into  his 
mind  that,  some  four  or  five  months  before,  he  had 
left  a  page  of  his  Mcmoires  unfinished  ....  he 
wished,  ere  closing  his  eyes,  to  finish  this  page,  and 
therefore  caused  his  dear  and  faithful  fellow-worker, 
General  Dumas,  to  be  summoned.  '  I  must  be  gone,' 
said  he  to  him,  when  he  entered  ;  '  I  must  be  gone 
(il  fant  partir)  ;  I  have  received  my  sentence ' ;  and, 
with  a  freezingly  cold  and  tremulous  hand,  he  handed 
to  him  the  key  of  his  portfolio,  so  that  he  might  seek 
his  manuscript.  Their  work  lasted  some  time,  and, 
during  the  course  of  it,  the  sick  man  displayed  the 
most  wonderful  precision  and  firmness  of  intellect, 
going  even  so  far  as  to  discuss  with  the  General  certain 
forms  of  editing  it.  The  work  done,  he  desired  to  be 
left  alone  with  the  Queen  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  in 
order  to  dictate  to  her  certain  testamentary  disposi- 
tions relative  to  some  of  his  friends.  He  signed  this 
deed,  but  in  a  handwriting  no  longer  legible.  He  had 
done  with  the  things  of  time  ;  he  turned  towards  those 
of  eternity.  The  Abbe  Guelles,  whom  he  had  caused 
to  come  from  Paris,  under  the  title  of  his  Almoner, 
was  now  introduced*     It   was  three  o'clock  in  the 

*  The  name  of  the  Abbe  Guelles  occurs  in  a  previous  page  of  this 
work,  as  assisting,  a  short  time  before  the  death  of  King  Louis  Philippe, 
at  the  first  communion — in  London — of  the  Comte  de  Paris,  his  former 
pupil  at  the  Tuileries. 


296        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN    OF  FRANCE. 

afternoon  :  the  abbe  found  the  King  seated  in  his 
large  arm-chair,  and  conversing  with  the  Queen. 
The  latter  retired,  and  immediately  afterwards  the 
King  said,  in  a  very  firm  voice,  despite  his  weakness  : 
'  My  dear  abbe,  I  wish  to  accomplish  that  which  I 
have  promised.  I  possess  all  my  faculties  ;  I  am 
aware  of  the  duties  which  conscience  requires  of  me  ; 
I  have  a  perfect  knowledge  of  what  I  do.'  *  And, 
before  the  abbe  demanded  it  of  him,  he  made  the 
sign  of  the  cross,  and,  in  the  most  explicit  and  com- 
plete form,  pronounced  the  profession  of  the  Catholic 

faith When,    afterwards,    the   holy  words   of 

absolution  were  uttered  over  him,  the  humble  penitent 
accompanied  them  by  an  act  of  contrition,  the  expres- 
sions of  which  were  wrung  from  his  heart,  and  which 
he  articulated  slowly,  in  a  tone  of  compunction  and  of 
faith,  which  attested  the  entire  lucidity  of  his  thought. 
'  You  have  done  me  good,'  said  he  then  to  the  abbe  ; 
'  but  hasten  to  give  me  the  viatique,  for  I  feel  that  I  am 
going.' 

"  Whilst  the  priest  was  bringing  the  consecrated 

*  It  was  the  Abbe  Guelles  himself,  who,  in  obedience  to  a  request 
of  Queen  Marie  Amelie,  made  a  note  of  the  circumstances  above 
related.  Upon  the  morrow — or  upon  the  next  day  but  one — after  the 
death  of  the  King,  this  note  was  made ;  and  by  her  Majesty  it  was 
subsequently  confided  to  M.  Auguste  Trognon,  to  whom  thanks  are 
due  for  the  original  of  the  above  translation. 


MARIE  AMELIE  AND  DUCHESS  OF  ORLEANS.  297 

Host  and  the  holy  oils  from  the  chapel,  the  Queen 
had  returned  to  the  presence  of  her  husband,  and, 
with  her,  the  princes  and  princesses  of  the  royal  family. 
All  knelt,  shedding  tears  in  respectful  silence,  and  the 
dying  man  received  the  Holy  Communion. 

"  'You  do  me  good,'  he  repeated '  Now  grant 

me  extreme  unction.' 

"Whilst  this  sacrament  was  being  administered  to 
him,  he  followed  all  its  rites  with  concentrated  atten- 
tion, and  even  joined  with  his  voice  in  its  prayers  .  .  . 
then,  turning  to  the  Queen,  he  said  to  her — 

" '  Thou  art  well  content  ?  .  .  .  and  I  am  so  like- 
wise.' 

" '  Yes','  replied  she,  '  I  am  well  content,  for  I  hope 
soon  to  rejoin  thee ' ;  and,  whilst  uttering  those 
words,  her  countenance  was  illumined  with  strange 
radiance " 

At  eight  o'clock  on  the  following  morning  the  King 
was  still  alive.  During  the  intervening  night  he  had 
slept  a  little,  and  had  seemed  pleased  with  the  intelli- 
gent conversation  of  Dr.  de  Mussy  ;  but  the  last 
moments  were  at  hand  ;  the  Abbe  Guelles  was  again 
at  the  side  of  the  dying,  exiled,  monarch  ;  the  aged 
Queen  was  kneeling  in  prayer  close  to  the  husband 
about  to  pass  away  from  her  for  ever  in  this  world  ; 
the  Duchcsse  d'Orleans  was  also  there  with  her  two 


298        ILLUSTRIOUS    WOMEN    OF   FRANCE. 

sons  ;  likewise  the  other  princes  and  princesses  of  the 
House  of  Orleans  then  resident  at  Claremont. 

At  a  little  past  eight  o'clock  King  Louis  Philippe 
ceased  to  breathe.  Queen  Marie  Amelie  herself 
closed  his  eyes — those  eyes  which  in  years  long  by- 
gone but  doubtless  vividly  present  to  her  agonized 
memory  at  that  moment,  had  looked  upon  her  with 
love  when  he  and  she  were  both  still  young  under  the 
sunny  sky  of  Italy. 

Louis  Philippe,  "  ex-King  of  the  French,"  was  dead. 
No  revolutions  on  this  earth  and  amongst  all  its  shift- 
ing politics,  no  "  madness  of  the  many  for  the  gain  of 
the  few  "  could  trouble  him  more.  And,  having  closed 
his  eyes  in  loving  and  pious  reverence,  his  widow 
turned  to  his  children  and  grand-children,  who  were 
praying,  weeping,  near  her,  and  said  : 

"  His  last  thought,  the  last  wish  which  he  expressed 
to  me,  was  that  you  may  for  ever  remain  united. 
Promise  me  that  so  it  shall  be." 

They  promised  ;  and  then  they  all  gathered  round 
her,  saying,  "  From  this  day  forth  you  shall  be  our 
centre  ;  we  will  never  leave  you  !  " 

Not  many  weeks  after  the  death  of  her  father,  the 
Queen  of  the  Belgians  died.  Queen  Marie  Amelie 
had  exhibited  a  noble  fortitude,  a  strength  so  above 
this  world  that  it  had  gained  for  her  the  title  of  "  the 


MARIE  AMELIE  AND  DUCHESS  OF  ORLEANS.  299 

strong  woman  of  Holy  Writ,"  since  following  the  re- 
mains of  her  husband  to  the  grave  of  his  exile  in  the 
little  English  chapel  of  Weybridge  ;  and  now,  upon 
the  8th  day  of  October  in  the  same  year  she  embarked 
at  Ostend  in  order  to  be  present  at  the  death-bed  of 
her  most  cherished  daughter,  the  "  angel  of  the  family." 
The  Duchesse  d'Orleans  accompanied  Queen  Marie 
Amelie  upon  this  occasion.  The  sons,  and  other 
members  of  the  aged  Queen's  family  also.  But  it  is 
the  Duchesse  d'Orleans  who  here  speaks,  three  days 
after  the  death  of  the  much-loved  Queen  of  the  Bel- 
gians, her  sister-in-law  : 

"  It  were  useless  to  attempt  to  describe  to  you,  how 
desolate  we  all  feel  at  the  loss  of  our  earthly  provi- 
dence. God  has  taken  our  good  angel  from  us.  He 
knows  what  is  best,  but  His  designs  are  impene- 
trable." 

And  it  is  Queen  Marie  Amelie  who  writes  : 

"  May  the  will  of  God  be  done  !  We  have  an  angel 
the  more  in  heaven  ;  but  I  remain  more  unhappy 
than  ever  upon  earth." 

And  it  is  one  of  the  brothers  of  the  amiable  Queen 
of  the  Belgians,  a  son  of  Queen  Marie  Amelie,  who 
writes  : 

.  .  .  .  "  She  is  dead,  with  her  great  heart,  thinking 
only  of  others  until  her  last  moment.     She  has  accom- 


300        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF    FRANCE. 

plished  her  task  in  this  world  ;  no  ordeal  has  been 
spared  to  her ;  and  it  is  that  which  has  killed  her. 
But,  at  least,  her  death  has  been  surrounded  by  con- 
solations. She  died  happily — happy  even  in  the 
evident  regret  of  her  husband,  so  cold  ordinarily, 
but  whom  she  loved  so  tenderly  ;  happy  in  seeing  us 
all  near  her ;  happy,  after  a  life  of  suffering,  to  be 

delivered  from   its  bondage The  grief  of  the 

Queen"  (Marie  Amelie)  "  is  immense.  But  think  of  all 
that  she  suffers  !  Yesterday,  for  example,  the  sounds  of 
the  coffin  being  nailed  down,  were  audible  in  her  room 
during  all  the  afternoon.  She  thinks  of  preserving 
herself  only  but  for  us — we  who  have  just  lost  the  one 
whose  heart  was  the  refuge  of  all  our  griefs  !...." 

And  again  writes  the  Duchesse  d'Orleans  about 
Queen  Marie  Amelie  : 

"  Our  mother  !  Could  you  but  see  her !  She 
astonishes  us  all  by  her  words  of  resignation  and  of 
faith.  In  heaven  are  all  her  thoughts  ;  and  her  sole 
care  is  that  her  children  may  find  a  place  there,  and 
that  she  may  be  prepared  to  follow." 

When  afterwards  the  Duchesse  d'Orleans,  then  back 
again  in  England,  heard  how  France,  under  the  Second 
Empire,  had  adopted  a  government  exclusive  of  her 
own  sons,  she  not  only  marvels  at  the  submission  of 
Queen  Marie    Amelie,  but,    for  a  fleeting   moment, 


MARIE  AMELIE  AND  DUCHESS  OF  ORLEANS.  301 

seems  almost  irritated  by  it ;  "  for,"  writes  she,  "  every- 
thing gives  me  pain  ;  yes,  everything,  even  the  sanctity 
of  our  admirable  Queen She  has  a  word  of  in- 
dulgence and  of  charity  for  everybody." 

Yet,  not  less  so  the  writer  of  these  words  herself ; 
for  once  when  somebody  in  presence  of  the  Duchesse 
d'Orleans  repeated,  or  attempted  to  repeat,  some 
anecdote  unworthy  of  the  Empress  Eugenie,  whose 
fair  fame  it  concerned,  she  indignantly  demanded 
silence,  and  forbade  that  henceforth  anybody  should 
presume  to  speak  to  her  of  that  illustrious  lady  save 
in  terms  of  the  respect  due  to  her.  The  winter  of  the 
year  1856  was  passed  by  the  Duchesse  d'Orleans  in 
Italy.  Her  health,  never  strong,  and  less  so  espe- 
cially since  her  widowhood,  was  the  subject  of  anxiety 
to  all  save  herself.  In  Italy,  she  found  physical  relief 
and  much  intellectual  joy  ;  for,  although  German  by 
birth  and  Lutheran  by  religion,  she  was  ardent,  poetic, 
in  character,  and  to  her  the  glorious  sights  of  the 
south  of  Europe,  its  treasures  of  art  and  nature,  its 
blue  sky  and  balmy  air  were  so  precious  that  they 
seemed  to  infuse  in  her  fresh  life.  But  to  England 
she  came  back  again,  and  then  after  a  time  she  took 
up  her  abode  (always  in  the  neighbourhood  of  her 
dead  husband's  family)  at  a  villa  called  Cranbourne 
House,  near  the  Thames.     She  liked  Richmond,  but 


302        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN    OF  FRANCE. 

this  new  residence  of  hers  in  that  vicinity  was  damp 
and  gloomy.  Such  impression,  however  (justly  de- 
clares one  who  knew  and  loved  this  princess  well — one, 
from  whose  memories  of  her,  quotations  have  been  ac- 
knowledged in  these  pages),  this  impression  was  soon 
effaced  by  the  charm,  the  grace,  the  cheerfulness,  and 
elegance,  which  she  invariably  imparted  to  every  place 
inhabited  by  her ;  but  hitherto  she  had  lived  for  her 
two  sons  ;  in  their  education  she  had  found  the  ex- 
alted duties  which  had  sustained  her  under  sorrow  ; 
and  both  of  them  had  now  arrived  at  an  age,  and  each 
of  them  had  so  profited  by  her  companionship,  that  she 
felt  a  time  had  come  when  they  no  longer  needed  her 
constant  care. 

Nevertheless,  when  either  of  them  was  in  trouble, 
or  sickness,  needful  in  any  way  of  sympathy,  she  was 
prompt  to  aid  or  to  comfort  ;  and  therefore,  when 
during  the  month  of  May,  1858,  the  Due  de  Chartres 
fell  ill,  she  was  unwearied  in  her  attendance  upon 
him. 

He  soon  recovered,  but  his  mother  seemed  sud- 
denly to  have  lost  much  of  her  own  physical 
strength,  never  great.  In  mind,  she  was  as  bright, 
if  not  brighter,  than  ever  ;  and  her  weakness  of  body, 
to  which  she  paid  no  attention  herself,  was  attributed 
to  her  having  taken  cold.     Upon  Sunday,  the  9th  of 


MARIE  AMELIE  AND  DUCHESS  OF  ORLEANS.  303 

May,  a  guest  from  Paris  arrived  at  Cranbourne  House, 
and  so  animated  was  the  Duchesse  in  conversation 
that  it  seemed  impossible  for  anything  serious  to  be 
the  matter  with  her. 

Yet,  in  the  course  of  the  ensuing  week,  a  rapid 
declension  of  physical  strength  was  evident ;  she  was 
reluctantly  compelled  to  remain  in  her  own  sleeping 
apartment,  because  change  of  air  brought  on  fits  of 
coughing  with  consequent  exhaustion.  Her  chief 
pleasure  was  derived  from  the  society  of  her  two  sons. 
"  At  least,  let  me  look  at  them,"  she  would  say,  when 
warned  against  too  much  conversation. 

Dr.  de  Mussy,  whose  name  has  so  often  occurred  in 
the  course  of  these  pages,  was  in  attendance  upon  her, 
but  no  immediate  danger  was  apprehended.  Just  at 
that  time  much  anxiety  was  felt  at  Claremont  on 
account  of  an  illness  from  which  Queen  Marie  Amelie 
was  suffering ;  and  here  it  must  be  remembered  how 
both  her  Majesty  and  the  Duchesse  d'Orleans  had  for 
some  months  past  been  depressed  by  the  sudden 
■death  of  the  Duchesse  de  Nemours,  dear  indeed  to 
both  their  hearts.* 

*  In  the  month  of  November  the  beautiful  and  truly  estimable 
Duchesse  de  Nemours  gave  birth  to  a  daughter.  There  was  a  tradition 
at  Claremont  (derived,  doubtless,  from  the  well-known  unfortunate  fate 
of  its  former  inhabitant,  the  Princess  Charlotte  of  England)  that  no 
mother   of  a   child   born   there   would    prosper.      The    Duchesse   de 


304        ILLUSTRIOUS    WOMEN    OF   FRANCE. 

In  her  the  Queen  had  lost  a  most  beloved 
daughter-in-law,  and  the  Duchesse  d'Orleans  a  sister 
— all  the  more  prized  by  her  because  of  the  brotherly 
afifection  which  had  formerly  existed  between  her 
own  ever-lamented  husband  and  the  Due  de 
Nemours,  who,  ever  since  the  days  of  her  widow- 
hood, had  been  a  true  support  to  her.  The  know- 
ledge of  his  sorrow  was  painful  to  her  and  to  the 
Queen,  and  it  is  more  than  probable  that  this  new 
family  affliction  had  much  affected  the  health  of  both 
the  one  and  the  other.  When,  therefore,  the  Duchesse 
d'Orleans  lay  ill  at  Cranbourne  House,  Richmond,  in 
the  month  of  May,  1858,  the  exiled  Queen  at  Clare- 
mont  was  herself  so  extremely  far  from  well,  that 
whatever  anxiety  had  begun  to  be  felt  there  concerning 
her  daughter-in-law  was  concealed  from  her  as  much  ay 
possible.  "  I  have  been  often  like  this,"  the  Duchesse 
d'Orleans  herself  said,  with  a  sweet  and  patient 
smile  to  those  of  her  own  household  who  manifested 
signs  of  fear  when  listening  to  her  cough  and  witness- 
ing her  frequent  fainting  fits, — "  I  have  so  often  been 

Nemours,  however,  rapidly  recovered  from  the  event  which  added  to 
her  already  great  happiness.  On  the  loth  day  of  November  she  was 
conversing  gaily  with  her  husband  as  to  her  hopes  of  soon  again  being 
in  the  midst  of  the  family  circle ;  he  had  scarcely  left  her,  she  being 
then  at  her  toilette  and  in  the  act  of  arranging  her  magnificent  hair, 
when  he  was  suddenly  recalled  to  her  side,  and  found  that  she  was 
dead. 


MARIE  AMELIE  AND  DUCHESS  OF  ORLEANS.  305 

like  this."  And  truly — as  says  one  who  knew  her 
well — her  ardent  soul  had  ever  been  too  powerful  for 
its  fragile  covering,  that  delicate  body  which  it 
consumed. 

On  the  evening  of  the  18th  of  May  her  two  sons 
came  in  as  usual  to  wish  her  good-night.  "  My 
children,  God  bless  you  ! "  said  she  to  them,  and  they 
left  her,  not  thinking  that  her  voice,  so  beloved 
by  them,  would  never  again  be  heard  by  them  on 
earth. 

Dr.  de  Mussy,  however,  was  alarmed  at  her 
extreme  debility,  and  determined  to  remain  during 
that  night  under  her  roof,  although  her  thoughts  and 
fears  were  still  all  for  others  and  not  for  herself. 
With  her  own  hand  she  offered  to  the  nurse  in 
attendance  upon  her  some  wine  which  had  been 
prescribed  for  her,  saying,  "  You  need  strength  not 
less  than  I  do."  And  when,  by  the  reflection  of  a 
mirror  in  her  chamber,  she  perceived  that  one  of 
her  ladies-in-waiting  was  standing  behind  the  bed- 
curtain,  she  said  to  Dr.  de  Mussy,  in  a  tone  of  tender 
playfulness,  "  Dear  doctor,  pray  make  her  sit  down. 
She  forgets  that  I  can  see  her  in  the  glass,  still 
standing." 

Presently,  when  roused  from  time  to  time  to  take 
the  remedies  needed,  and  finding  Dr.  de  Mussy  still 


306        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF   FRANCE. 

in  assiduous  attendance  upon  her,  she  observed  his 
anxious  countenance,  and  seemed  surprised  to  be 
thought  "  so  very  ill." 

"  I  have  a  wish  to  sleep — I  should  like  to  rest," 
she  said,  with  her  usual  sweetness.  "  I  wish  to 
rest." 

Madame  de  Beauvoir,  her  friend  and  devoted 
attendant,  was  possibly  deluded  by  hope  of  speedy 
convalescence  when  hearing  these  words  ;  but  not  so 
Dr.  de  Mussy,  for,  retiring  into  an  adjoining  apart- 
ment, he  at  once  proceeded  to  write  to  Claremont 
and  elsewhere  his  apprehensions  of  a  fatal  result. 

Meanwhile,  it  was  hoped  that  the  Duchesse 
d'Orleans,  who  had  so  craved  for  rest,  was  sleeping. 
Not  a  sound  was  heard  in  her  chamber,  but  the 
stillness  was  so  extreme,  that  the  lady  left  to  watch 
the  invalid  felt  an  ominous  shiver  of  fear  pass  through 
her,  and  she  quickly  sought  Dr.  de  Mussy,  albeit  even 
whilst  doing  so  afraid  to  awaken  the  Princess. 

But  alas  !  no  need  to  fear  that  ;  for  when,  a 
moment  afterwards,  the  physician  came  in  and 
looked  at  his  patient,  he  saw  that  she  had  ceased  to 
breathe. 

He  immediately  summoned  her  sons  ;  but  neither 
the  Comte  de  Paris  nor  the  Due  de  Chartres  could 
at   first  realize   the  fact   that   their  beloved   mother 


MARIE  AMELIE  AND  DUCHESS  OF  ORLEANS.  307 

was  dead.  It  was  difficult  even  for  more  expe- 
rienced eyes  to '  discover  the  awful  truth,  for  this 
Princess,  this  once  fond  wife  and  faithful  widow, 
this  devoted  mother  and  kind  friend,  reposed  in 
peace,  looking  younger  than  she  had  done  in  the 
later  years  of  her  troubled  and  eventful  life,  because 
all  traces  of  time  and  grief  were  smoothed  from  her 
always  sweet  and  still  smiling  face  since  that 
mysterious  moment  of  her  noiseless,  though  sudden 
passage  from  earth  to  heaven. 

Helene,  Duchesse  d'Orleans,  was  dead,  and  in 
death  she  was  so  lovely,  that  the  sight  of  her  could 
not  fail  to  recall  how,  in  her  early  youth,  the  poet 
Goethe  had  looked  upon  her  face  as  on  something  most 
pure  and  ideal  in  its  dawning  charm  ;  how  the  poet 
Lamartine  had  gazed  upon  that  face  as  expressing 
something  most  touching  and  yet  sublime  when,  as  a 
young  though  widowed  mother,  she  heroically  braved 
all  danger  for  the  sake  of  the  children  bequeathed  to 
her  care. 

Nor  was  the  sense  of  sacred  trust  towards  them 
ever  dormant  in  her  ;  for,  though  an  exile  herself  as 
they  were,  she  had,  at  a  date  considerably  before  her 
death,  gathered  together  all  the  worldly  treasures 
still  remaining  to  her,  and  by  a  will  (which,  in  its 
every   clause,  evinces  the  justice  not  less   than   the 


308        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF  FRANCE. 

tenderness  of  her  character)  divided  these  between 
them. 

At  Weybridge  (1873)  she  lies  buried,  far  away 
from  the  beloved  husband  whose  premature  death 
she  so  passionately  mourned,  but  near  to  that 
husband's  father,  and  also  to  her  beloved  sister- 
in-law. 

A  mystery  did  it  seem  even  to  the  saintly  Queen 
Marie  Amelie  that  that  grave  at  Weybridge  had  not 
re-opened  to  receive  her  rather  than  either  of  her 
daughters-in-law — the  Duchesse  de  Nemours,  or  the 
Duchesse  d'Orleans  ;  and  it  was  a  great  pain  to  her 
aged  Majesty  not  to  have  been  present  during  the 
last  illness  of  the  latter,  for  not  long  since  had  she 
travelled  from  Claremont  into  Switzerland  sooner 
than  be  absent  from  her  eldest  son's  widow  when  the 
Duchesse  d'Orleans  met  with  an  accident  (a  fall  from 
a  carriage)  at  Lausanne  ;  and  yet,  when  dying  at  a 
short  distance  from  her,  she  had  been — as  here 
already  told — prevented  from  manifesting  last  tokens 
of  love  and  sympathy  towards  her. 

But,  with  this  new  and  unexpected  grief,  more 
duties  devolved  upon  the  venerable  Queen  ;  for 
though  the  Duchesse  d'Orleans  had  suddenly  passed 
away  from  earth,  her  sons  remained.  The  Comte 
de    Paris    and    the    Due    de    Chartres    were    con- 


MARIE  AM  ELI E  AND  DUCHESS  OF  ORLEANS.  309 

ducted  to  their  grandmother  at  Claremont.  She 
was  confined  to  her  bed  by  the  illness  from  which  she 
was  still  suffering,  but  the  sight  of  these  orphan 
princes,  her  intense  sympathy  for  youths  weeping  as 
they  were  for  the  loss  of  the  mother  who  had 
consecrated  her  existence  to  them,  inspired  the 
Queen  with  a  wish  still  to  live  on  for  their  sakes, 
and  to  continue — as  far  as  her  advanced  years  made 
possible  to  her — the  care  from  which  they  had  hitherto 
derived  such  great  advantages. 

Many  readers  will  here  remember  the  sight  of  this 
royal  and  venerable  lady,  still  taking  an  interest  in 
works  of  art  and  industry  at  the  London  International 
Exhibition  of  1862,  and  if  so,  they  will  rightly  and 
readily  infer  that  she  delighted  in  associating  herself 
to  the  last  with  all  that  could  charm  or  elevate  the 
minds  of  the  grandchildren  who  clustered  round  her. 
In  travel  she  had  also  taken  intelligent  pleasure  as 
long  as  her  strength  permitted,  and  this  never  more 
so  than  when  she  paid  a  long  visit  to  her  son,  the  Due 
de  Montpensier. 

The  climate  of  her  native  Italy  and  that  of  Spain 
were  congenial  to  her ;  and,  intensely  religious  as  she 
was  by  nature  and  by  the  severe  discipline  of  her 
long  and  chequered  life,  she  deemed  it  a  great 
privilege  to  enter  lofty  cathedrals  where  she  could 


310        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF  FRANCE. 

worship  in  sun-lit  aisles  according  to  the  faith  of  her 
ancestors. 

But,  shut  out  from  France,  it  was  in  England  that 
she  formed  her  permanent  home,  and  in  the  society 
of  England's  Queen  found  frequent  consolation. 

It  was  in  the  month  of  July,  1857,  that  Queen 
Marie  Amelie  crossed  the  Channel  for  the  last  time. 
The  voyage  was  but  a  short  one,  for  it  was  only  to 
Belgium  ;  but  the  object  of  it  was  important,  for 
nothing  less  than  the  marriage  of  the  Archduke 
Maximilian  with  her  granddaughter,  child  of  her  own 
best-beloved  child,  the  late  Queen  of  the  Belgians, 
caused  her  to  undertake  it.  To  her  the  idea  of  this 
marriage  was  most  agreeable,  not  only  'because  she 
recognized  and  admired  in  the  bridegroom  noble 
qualities  which,  she  thought,  could  not  fail  to  ensure 
the  happiness  of  his  wife,  but  likewise  because  of  the 
Austrian  blood  which  flowed  in  his  veins— that  same 
blood  which  he,  like  herself,  derived  from  their  great 
ancestress,  Maria  Theresa.  Yet,  when  this  young 
kinsman  of  hers  came  some  time  afterwards  with 
his  wife  to  Claremont,  there  to  take  farewell  of 
Queen  Marie  Amelie  ere  their  departure  for  Mexico, 
her  Majesty  was  deeply  depressed  by  gloomy  fore- 
bodings as  to  their  fate  in  the  far-off  land  over  which 
they  were  called  to  reign  as  Emperor  and  Empress. 


MARIE  AMELJE  AND  DUCHESS  OF  ORLEANS.  311 

That  these  forebodings  were  subsequently  realized  to 
the  most  awful  extent,  the  world  at  large  now  knows 
only  too  well  ;  but  the  youthful  Emperor  and 
Empress  did  not  share  in  them,  when,  full  of  confi- 
dence as  to  a  glorious  future,  full  of  splendid  inten- 
tions as  to  doing  great  things  for  the  people  and  the 
land  over  whom  and  which  they  were  prepared  to 
rule  with  a  most  just  and  elevated  intelligence,  they 
paid  their  parting  visit  to  Claremont,  and  there  knelt 
at  the  feet  of  their  aged  and  saintly  relative  in  order 
to  receive  her  blessing.  "  They  will  be  assassinated," 
declared  Queen  Marie  Amelie  ;  and  so  great  was  the 
prophetic  emotion  of  the  latter,  that  at  last  the  brave 
Archduke  was,  for  a  moment,  almost  appalled  by  it. 
His  wife,  then  little  dreaming  that  a  fate  even  worse 
than  assassination  was  in  store  for  her — a  fate  worse 
than  death  in  the  midst  of  life — was  so  buoyant  with 
hope,  that  for  her  was  there  no  pain,  save  that  of 
parting  with  her  dear  and  dead  mother's  kind  family 
at  Claremont. 

Thence  went  forth  this  Prince  and  Princess — the 
one  full  of  life  and  intellect,  courage  and  mercy,  to 
be  shot  down  dead,  like  the  meanest  thing  on  earth  ; 
and  the  other,  full  of  love  and  youth,  of  magnanimity 
and  intelligence,  to  come  back  to  Europe  in  order  to 
plead  his  cause — a  noble  cause,  pleaded  with  all  the 


312        ILLUSTRIOUS    WOMEN   OF   FRANCE. 

eloquence  of  a  true  wife's  affection,  of  a  high  sense  of 
right  against  barbaric  might — but  pleaded  in  vain, 
and  then  to  sink  into  the  madness  of  despair,  to 
watch  for  the  return  of  the  husband  whom  she  loved, 
whom  she  had  tried  to  serve  and  to  save,  but  who  was 
dead,  though,  in  the  death  of  her  own  mind,  she  knew 
it  not. 

It  was  with  prophetic  pain  that  Queen  Marie 
Amelie  parted  with  the  Emperor  Maximilian  and  his 
wife  ;  but  from  the  marriages  of  her  two  grandsons, 
the  Comte  de  Paris  and  the  Due  de  Chartres,  she 
found  consolation,  as  one  who  had  long  been  honoured 
by  her  confidence  will  here  explain. 

"  It  was  with  pleasure  that  the  Queen  welcomed 
the  return  of  the  Comte  de  Paris  and  the  Due  de 
Chartres  from  America,  where,  in  the  midst  of  the 
perils  of  a  formidable  war,  her  anxiety  had  followed 
them  during  eight  months.  She  was  happy  that  the 
two  Princes,  satisfied  at  having  done  honour  to  the 
name  they  bore,  returned  to  their  family  with 
intentions  of  marriage.  By  such  they  fulfilled  the 
dearest  wishes  of  their  ancestress,  who  every  day 
implored  God  that  as  He  had  left  her  so  long  a 
time  upon  earth  she  might  be  permitted,  before 
her  death,  to  behold  the  etablissemcnt  of  her  grand- 
children. 


MARIE  AMELIE  AND  DUCHESS  OF  ORLEANS.  313 

"  The  Due  de  Chartres,  touched  by  the  charms  of 
his  cousin,  the  Princesse  Francoise,  daughter  of  the 
Prince  de  Joinville,  gained  her  consent,  with  that  of 
her  parents,  and,  upon  the  nth  day  of  June,  1863, 
their  union  was  celebrated  in  the  little  chapel  of 
Kingston.  .  .  .  Some  months  afterwards  the 
Comte  de  Paris  started  for  Seville,  for  the  purpose 
of  demanding  from  his  uncle,  the  Due  de  Mont- 
pensier,  the  hand  of  the  Infanta  Isabella,  and,  upon 
the  30th  day  of  May,  1864,  the  festival  day  of 
St.  Ferdinand,  the  little  chapel  of  Kingston  beheld 
the  benediction  of  the  Church  consecrate  this  other 
marriage.  One  witness  was  wanting  there,  and  this 
— as  said  people  to  each  other  in  hushed  tones  and 
with  sadness — was  the  mother  of  the  young  bride- 
groom." 

Anybody,  however,  referring  to  the  will  of  that 
mother,  can  see  how,  by  earnest  sympathy,  she  was 
prepared  to  rejoice  in  these  events,  and  how,  by  the 
foresight  of  maternal  love,  she  had  provided  even 
the  ornaments  to  be  worn  by  the  two  daughters-in- 
law  whom  she  never  lived  to  embrace.  Witness  the 
following  out  of  many  other  similar  clauses  of  the  last 
Testament  of  the  Duchesse  d'Orleans  : — 

"  To  THE  COMTE  de  PARIS — my  necklace  of 
pearls  in  four  rows,  which  he  will,  I  hope,  give  some 


314        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF  FRANCE. 

day  to  the  Comtesse  de  Paris  ;  the  six  pendants  in 
diamonds,"  &c.  &c. 

Similar  bequests  are  made  by  this  will  (dated 
January  I,  1855,  full  of  forethought  and  impartiality) 
to  the  Due  de  Chartres,  for  the  use  of  the  future 
Duchesse  de  Chartres,  and  the  extreme  care  taken 
by  the  testatrix  to  apportion  certain  portraits  of  their 
father  to  each  of  her  sons  manifests  her  earnest  wish 
that  the  memory  of  him — a  memory  sacred  to  her — 
should  be  ever  present  with  them. 

In  the  year  1865  the  aged  Queen  Marie  Amelie 
had  the  satisfaction  of  presenting  at  the  font  of 
baptism  the  first-born  children  of  the  Comte  de  Paris 
and  the  Due  de  Chartres — two  little  princesses,  both 
named  after  her. 

Upon  such  occasions,  and  especially  upon  those  of 
the  marriages  above  recorded,  it  was  astonishing  how 
splendid  was  the  appearance  of  this  royal  lady, 
despite  her  eighty  years  of  life.  "  All  persons 
present,"  says  one  who  then  beheld  her,  "  were  struck 
by  the  majestic  beauty  of  her  old  age."  In  daily  life 
her  dress  was  extremely  simple,  her  habits  austere  in 
self-denial,  but  genial  and  courteous  to  everybody 
about  her.  The  self-discipline,  which  from  the  time  of 
her  early  youth  in  Italy  to  that  of  her  last  sojourn  on 
earth  at  Claremont  was  extremely  severe,  she  did  not 


MARIE  AMELIE  AND  DUCHESS  OF  ORLEANS.  315 

exact  from  others  ;  and  even  her  numerous  grand- 
children, clustering  round  her,  always  sought,  and 
never  found  wanting,  in  her  a  vivid  and  tender 
sympathy,  for  their  joys  not  less  than  their  sorrows. 

But  the  time  came  when  she  must  pass  away 
from  the  midst  of  them.  Not  long  before  that 
time  it  was  thought  probable  that,  just  as  her  long 
pilgrimage  in  this  world  was  nearly  completed,  she 
would  have  had  to  leave  Claremont,  the  home  of  her 
last  exile ;  for  her  son-in-law,  Leopold,  King  of  the 
Belgians,  died  (1865),  and  it  was  to  his  relationship 
that  the  fact  of  her  residence  at  Claremont  was 
partly  due.  It  was  there,  as  herebefore  said,  that 
he  had  lived  in  the  days  of  his  youth,  with  his 
first  wife,  the  Princess  Charlotte  of  England,  but, 
by  the  deed  of  his  tenure  of  Claremont,  so  it  is 
believed,  that  property  returned  to  the  State  at  his 
decease. 

Queen  Marie  Amelie  deplored  his  death,  because 
he  had  long  been  a  good  friend  of  hers,  a  constant 
correspondent,  and,  still  more,  because  he  was  the 
widower  of  her  own  late  fondly  loved  daughter — his 
second  wife — and  the  father  of  her  children. 

But  her  aged  Majesty  also  mourned  over  her  own 
consequent  departure,  as  she  presumed,  from  Clare- 
mont. 


316        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF    FRANCE. 

"  To  quit  this  room  where  I  lost  my  King ! "  she 
mournfully  exclaimed,  whilst  looking  round  upon  the 
sanctuary  of  her  own  chamber, — "  to  leave  this  place 
which,  upon  my  first  arrival  in  it,  was  so  dreary, 
but  where  every  little  corner  has  grown  to  be  so 
dear !  When  I  go  forth  hence  it  will  be  as  though 
into  renewed  exile.  I  shall  kiss  the  lowest  steps 
of  this  threshold." 

Bnt  neither  England's  Queen  nor  England's 
Parliament  allowed  the  ex-Queen  of  the  French 
to  be  thus  expulsed  from  the  place  in  which,  by 
England's  hospitality,  she  had  found  a  refuge. 

Lord  Derby,  that  "  Rupert  of  Debate,"  paid  a 
grand  tribute  to  her  virtues  and  her  misfortunes  in 
the  House  of  Lords.  Mr.  Gladstone  did  the  same 
in  the  House  of  Commons,  and  the  sympathy  of 
Queen  Victoria  was  altogether  and  most  practically 
on  her  side. 

Wherefore  Queen  Marie  Amelie  remained  at  Clare- 
mont  ;  but  in  the  middle  of  the  month  of  March, 
1866,  her  long-sustained  strength  was  visibly  fast 
failing.  Dr.  de  Mussy,  so  often  referred  to  in  these 
pages,  was  with  her,  and  her  faithful  attendant, 
Mademoiselle  de  Miiser,  was  constant  in  watchful- 
ness ;  but  it  was  evident  that  the  cord  of  life  was 
broken — its  mysterious  spark  fast  dying  out. 


MARIE  AMELIE  AND  DUCHESS  OF  ORLEANS.  317 

And  yet  upon  Friday,  the  16th  of  March,  this 
venerable  Queen  listened  with  reverence  to  the 
preaching  of  a  Dominican  (Father  Didon)  who  had 
arrived  at  Claremont,  and  upon  the  19th  she  partook 
of  the  Holy  Communion,  observing  afterwards  to 
Mademoiselle  de  Miiser  that  she  was  so  glad  to  have 
done  so,  especially  as  the  day  was  the  festival  day  of 
St.  Joseph,  "patron  de  la  bonne  wort." 

But,  though  she  said  this,  she  did  not  seem  at  all 
to  suppose  that  her  own  death  was  so  near.  She 
felt  extremely  weak,  and  possibly  having  fasted  more 
during  the  season  of  Lent  than  those  about  her 
suspected,  she  attributed  her  sense  of  bodily  prostra- 
tion to  that  cause. 

Be  this  as  it  may,  she  persisted  in  exerting  herself 
to  the  last.  Various  letters  there  were  to  write  to 
several  members  of  her  family  then  not  at  Claremont, 
and  she  wrote  them. 

Loyal  adherents  of  the  Orleans  family  arrived  from 
Paris,  and  she  received  them.  General  de  Chabannes, 
a  guest  in  her  household,  had  lately  been  taken 
seriously  ill  under  her  roof ;  but  he  being  at  last 
about  to  return  thence  to  France,  she  insisted  on 
personally  taking  leave  of  him,  and  this  she  did, 
saying,  whilst  holding  out  her  hand  to  him,  "  I  have 
come  to  say  adieu  to  my  friend  before  his  departure." 


318        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF  FRANCE. 

In  the  course  of  that  afternoon  she  manifested 
symptoms  of  increased  weakness,  though  struggling 
against  them  to  the  last :  she  even  tried  to  read,  but 
was  eventually  persuaded  to  desist  from  doing  so. 

The  Due  de  Nemours  and  his  daughter  were  then 
her  guests ;  and  in  the  evening,  she  having  been 
persuaded  to  take  rest,  they  conversed  with  her  some 
time. 

There  seemed  no  cause  of  immediate  alarm ;  but 
afterwards  the  Princess  Marguerite  remembered  the 
pathetic  tones  with  which,  upon  bidding  her  good 
night,  the  Queen  said  to  her,  "  Pray  for  me." 

No  change  was  perceptible  during  that  night,  but 
the  next  morning  there  could  be  no  doubt  that  the 
end  of  that  royal  and  long  life  was  at  hand.  The 
Due  de  Chartres  arrived  just  in  time  to  receive  a  last 
sign  of  adieu  from  his  grandmother,  though  she,  like 
his  mother  had  done,  only  seemed  to  express  a  wish 
to  fall  asleep. 

A  sort  of  convulsion,  however,  presently  passed 
over  the  venerable  countenance  so  tenderly  watched 
by  all  present.  The  Abbe  Guelles  was  quickly 
summoned.  He  began — as  says  M.  Trognon,  one  of 
that  anxious  household — he  began  the  sacred  rites 
of  extreme  unction  ...  he  recited  the  Dc 
Profundis. 


MARIE  AMELIE  AND  DUCHESS  OF  ORLEANS.  319 

Queen  Marie  Amelie  was  dead,  and  scarcely  had 
her  soul  passed  away  from  its  earthly  tenement  than 
her  face,  notwithstanding  her  extreme  age,  took  an 
expression  of  almost  supernatural  beauty.  Accord- 
ing to  her  own  long-ago  expressed  wish — a  wish  that 
was  hers  to  the  last — she  was  clothed  for  her  burial 
in  the  same  black  dress  which  she  wore  when  she  fled 
with  her  husband  from  the  Tuileries.  It  was  the  last 
dress  she  wore  in  France. 

And,  thus  clad,  she  was  seen  by  Queen  Victoria, 
who  came  from  Windsor  to  Claremont  when  the  news 
of  the  fatal  event  thence  reached  her. 

"  I  have  come,"  said  Queen  Victoria, — "  I  have 
come  to  embrace  my  friend  for  the  last  time."  And 
her  Majesty  was  accordingly  conducted  into  the 
solemn  presence  of  the  aged  and  saintly  Queen,  who, 
having  found  rest  at  last  after  a  life  of  strange 
vicissitudes,  seemed  to  smile  at  the  much  younger, 
though  already  sorrowing,  Queen — a  smile  of  thanks 
for  kindness  received  in  the  land  of  exile  :  the  land 
where  she  lies  buried  at  the  side  of  her  husband,  and 
not  far  from  that  of  her  daughter-in-law,  the  Duchesse 
d'Orleans. 

But  now  (1873)  that  the  sons  of  Queen  Marie 
Amelie  have  returned  to  France,  and  that  the  sons 
of  the  Duchesse  d'Orleans  have  re-entered  that  land 


320        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF  FRANCE. 

of  their  birth — the  land  where  their  father  sleeps  his 
last  sleep  at  Dreux — how  long  a  time  will  elapse  ere 
these  royal  remains  be  transported  thither  ?  For 
these  two  much-tried  women — this  mother  of  the  Due 
d'Orleans  and  his  widow — both  ardently  desired  to 
rest  near  him,  the  object  of  their  mutual  love. 

It  may  here  be  added,  that  during  the  late  war 
between  France  and  Germany,  the  Due  de  Chartres, 
under  the  nam  de  guerre  of  Robert  le  Fort,  per- 
formed deeds  of  valour  in  behalf  of  his  native  land, 
from  which  he  had  been  long  exiled  ;  and  that  his 
uncle,  the  Due  d'Aumale,  being  questioned  as  to  the 
assumed  name  and  volunteer  rank  of  his  nephew  by 
a  Prussian  emissary,  who  wished  to  avert  from  the 
disguised  young  Prince  any  fatal  catastrophe, 
answered  : — 

"  Chartres  is  where  he  ought  to  be.  If  you  take 
him  prisoner,  shoot  him,  hang  him,  burn  him  if  you 
like.  He  is  doing  his  duty,  and  we  will  not  reveal 
the  name  under  which  he  seeks  to  accomplish  it." 

Here,  again,  spoke  the  descendant  of  the  heroic 
Maria  Theresa  ! 


THE    EMPRESS  EUGENIE 


AND 


THE    PRINCESS    MATHILDE. 


THE   EMPRESS   EUGENIE. 
(From  a  Photograph  by  W.  &  D.   Downey,   Nevvcastle-on-Tyne' 


THE  EMPRESS  EUGENIE  AND 
THE  PRINCESS  MATHILDE. 


kT  sunny  Madrid,  in  a  palatial  apart- 
ment, the  style  of  which  is  familiar 
to  everybody  acquainted  with  the 
elaborate  and  splendid  architec- 
ture of,  and  before,  the  Moyen- 
age  in  the  south  of  Europe, 
sits  a  military-looking  man, 
whose  various  "  decorations" — crosses,  and 
other  insignia  of  merit — proclaim  him  a 
brave  soldier,  and  at  his  feet  reposes  a  very 
young  girl,  who  listens  with  evidently  in- 
tense attention  to  the  words  of  her  companion — words 
which  tell  her  of  the  glories  of  the  battle-field  under  the 
first  Napoleon,  words  which  make  her  heart  beat  quick 
in  response  to  the  idea  of  victory  conveyed  by  them, 
and  which,  even  amid  the  flickering  light  and  shade  of 
the  sculptured  room  around  her,  cause  her  in  imagina- 
tion to  hear  the  trampling  of  innumerable  horses,  the 

Y    2 


324        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN    OF  FRANCE. 

clear  sound  of  the  clarion,  the  roll  of  drums,  the  shouts 
of  an  applauding  multitude,  and  to  behold  the  waving 
of  banners,  some  of  which  are  blood-stained  and  in 
tatters,  though  floating  in  the  sunlit  air,  triumphant. 
The  speaker  at  whose  feet  the  young  girl  sat  was 
her  father,  who,  though  a  grand  d'Espagne,  had 
shed  his  blood  for  the  cause  of  the  First  French 
Empire.  She — Marie  Eugenie  de  Montijo — was  the 
younger  of  his  two  daughters,  and,  in  her  own  right, 
Comtesse  de  Teba.  Born  at  Grenada,  in  the  month 
of  May,  1826,  she  at  an  early  age  displayed  an  in- 
telligence equal  to  her  beauty,  the  style  of  the  latter 
being  very  remarkable ;  for  with  Andalusian  form, 
features,  and  the  soft  eyes  peculiar  to  Spain,  it  united 
a  coronal  of  golden  hair  not  often  seen  in  that  southern 
clime.  This,  and  some  other  characteristics,  she 
doubtless  inherited  from  the  northern  ancestry  of  her 
still  beautiful  mother,  nee  Kirkpatrick  ;  and  the  blood 
which  glowed  in  her  veins,  and  illuminated  her  fair 
face  when  she  listened  to  tales  of  glory  and  heroism, 
such  as  those  familiar  to  her  brave  father,  she  derived 
from  laurel-crowned  heroes  of  her  Spanish  ancestry — 
amongst  whom  was  Alonzo  Perez  de  Guzman,  defender 
of  Tarifa  in  1293. 

Her  education   was  varied   by  its   localities  ;    for, 
accustomed  from  her  earliest  years  to  the  music,  the 


EUGENIE    AND   PRINCESS   MATHILDE.     325 

mystic  poetry  of  Spain — as  she  was  to  the  blue  skies, 
the  orange  and  citron  groves,  the  vivid  colouring  of 
flowers  and  of  costume  in  that  favoured  though  oft- 
distracted  land — she  was  sent  for  her  education  first 
to  Toulouse,  and  afterwards  to  Bristol. 

With  England,  therefore,  she  soon  became  ac- 
quainted, as  likewise  with  many  of  the  English  people  ; 
although  perhaps  at  this  time  one  of  the  warmest 
affections  of  her  pure  and  generous  heart  was  yielded 
to  the  favourite  companion  of  her  childhood  in  Spain 
— that  sister  Francisca  de  Sales,  born,  like  herself,  a 
Comtesse  de  Montijo,  &c,  and  subsequently  married 
to  the  Due  de  Berwick  and  d'Albe. 

Towards  France,  however — that  France  for  which 
her  father  had  voluntarily  fought  and  suffered — the 
thoughts  of  the  young  Eugenie  were  often  turned  with 
keenest  interest  ;  and  over  that  fair  land,  in  her  imagi- 
nation, the  eagle  of  Napoleon — under  whose  banners 
her  father  had  marched  to  victory — was  ever  ready 
despite  all  change  of  dynasty,  to  fly  from  tower  to 
tower,  from  steeple  to  steeple,  until  resting  with  folded 
wings  on  the  heights  of  Notre  Dame,  in  Paris. 

In  1839  her  father  died  at  Madrid;  less  than  ever 
was  she  likely  to  forget  the  legends  of  French  glory 
by  which  he  had  charmed  her  childhood  :  and  it  must 
consequently  have  been  with  a  sort  of  nascent  pride 


326        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF  FRANCE. 

and  earnest  sympathy  that  she  heard  first  of  the 
attempt  of  Prince  Louis  Napoleon,  on  Strasbourg, 
and  afterwards  (in  1840)  near  Boulogne. 

Women  adore  heroism,  and  though  men  may  sneer 
in  jealousy  at  the  attempt  of  an  exiled  prince  to  re- 
enter the  land  of  his  birth  by  the  aid  only  of  half  a 
hundred  men,  and  by  the  light  of  that  star  of  his  des- 
tiny in  which  he  had  implicit  belief,  there  was  some- 
thing heroic  in  the  eventful  voyage  of  this  prince 
across  the  British  channel,  in  the  steamboat  called  the 
"  Edinburgh  Castle,"  and  all  the  more  so  because  he 
had  already  been  made  to  pay  the  penalty  of  banish- 
ment to  America  for  his  sudden  entry  into  Strasbourg. 
From  America  he  had  come  back,  at  the  risk  of  his 
own  life,  in  the  hope  of  soothing  the  last  days  of  his 
adored  and  adoring  mother,  Queen  Hortense ;  and 
latterly,  in  England,  he  had  not  shrunk  from  the  con- 
sequences of  that  act  of  filial  duty  which  had  helped 
to  entail  upon  him  consequences,  including  poverty, 
from  which  the  soul  of  a  less  brave  man  would  have 
recoiled. 

So  it  was  no  wonder  if  the  fair  Eugenie,  born  of 
heroic  race,  and  early  smitten  with  the  legends  of  first 
Napoleonic  glory,  did  feel  that  which  many  might 
deem  even  a  romantic  interest  in  the  luckless  landing 
of  Prince  Louis  Napoleon  at  Boulogne.     Soldiers  on 


EUGENIE   AND   PRINCESS   MATHILDE.     327 

the  French  coast  were  excitedly  ready  to  hail  him 
with  rapture  ;  other  brave  men  likewise  ;  but  he  was 
captured  and  imprisoned  in  the  fortress  of  Ham  ;  and 
this  with  such  rigour  that  it  seemed  very  doubtful 
whether  the  beautiful  Spaniard,  destined  one  day  to 
become  his  wife,  would  ever  meet  him  in  this  world,  for 
as  yet  they  were  personally  strangers  to  each  other. 

Those  who  then  knew  most  of  his  private  affairs 
(as  did  elder  friends  and  relatives  of  the  writer 
of  this  page),  give  a  curious  version  of  the  Prince's 
eventual  escape  from  Ham — that  portentous  prison 
which,  as  it  helped  to  educate  him  for  the  exer- 
cise of  power,  he  called  the  "  University  of  Ham." 
He,  never  having  yet  met  the  Comtesse  de  Teba, 
was  affianced  to  a  young  English  lady  of  high  social 
position  and  large  fortune.  At  Holland  House, 
and  in  the  midst  of  some  of  the  most  exclusive 
English  circles,  the  Prince  had  been  eagerly  received, 
not  only  because  of  his  being  a  representative  of  the 
imperial  family  of  France,  but  on  account  of  his 
literary  talents,  his  charming  urbanity  of  manner,  and 
the  courage  he  had  already  evinced ;  not  the  least 
striking  proof  of  which  was  his  noble  endurance  of 
unmerited  misfortune.  The  Prince  was  deservedly 
popular  in  England,  but  the  young  English  lady, 
who  believed  that  she  would  one  day  be  his  wife,  be- 


323        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN    OF  FRANCE. 

longed  to  a  family  in  which  British  prejudices  reigned, 
and  when,  by  the  death  of  her  parents,  she  became 
the  absolute  mistress  of  her  own  destiny  and  fortune, 
she  was  opposed  by  her  surviving  relatives  in  her 
determination  to  share  the  former  with,  and  confer  the 
latter  on,  the  man  she  loved. 

Just  at  that  time,  the  Prince  was  incarcerated  at 
Ham ;  and  she,  secretly  determined  to  release  him, 
eventually  travelled  in  the  direction  of  the  prison 
which  there  contained  him. 

According  to  her  long-premeditated  plan,  she  arrived 
in  its  neighbourhood  by  means  of  her  own  carriage, 
and  accompanied,  amongst  other  attendants,  by  two 
footmen,  who  wore  her  family  livery.  At  first, 
when  near  the  fortress,  she  seemed  further  off  than 
ever  from  the  Prince  within  it ;  the  gates  were 
guarded  ;  the  walls  were  impregnable ;  she  had  no 
means  of  communication  with  the  illustrious  prisoner 
within ! 

Admitted  to  him,  however,  was  the  faithful  M.  le 
Docteur  Conneau,  who  had  promised  Queen  Hortense 
never  to  forsake  the  Prince,  her  surviving  son,  and 
who  therefore  preferred  to  share  his  captivity  than  to 
enjoy  liberty  without  him.  Whether  or  not  the 
errant  lady  who  had  determined  to  release  the  Prince 
from  prison,  placed  herself  in  communication  with  Dr. 


EUGENIE   AND   PRINCESS   MATHILDE.     329 

Conneau  cannot  here  be  affirmed  with  certainty,*  but 
there  seems  no  doubt  that,  regarded  by  the  neigh- 
bourhood scattered  around  as  some  fairy  princess,  she 
did  all  she  could  to  conciliate  men,  women,  and 
children,  by  gracious  words  and  presents,  in  case  of 
her  needing  their  co-operation. 

And  this  not  at  last  without  good  effect.  For, 
suddenly,  some  repairs  were  deemed  necessary  within 
the  fortress  ;  and,  with  joy,  she  ascertained  that  these 
repairs  were  needed  in  the  very  compartment  occupied 
by  the  Prince.  With  perception  quickened  by  love, 
she  selected  a  workman  as  nearly  as  possible  the  same 
height  and  size  as  the  Prince  himself ;  she  provided 
this  workman  with  a  new  suit  of  clothes  exactly 
similar  to  those  he  wore  ;  and  induced  (let  it  not  be 
said  bribed)  him  to  convey  this  new  suit  in  the  midst 
of  his  tools,  &c,  and  explain  to  the  prisoner  whence  it 
came.  By  the  same  hand  she  sent  a  tiny  note,  a 
cipher,  a  word,  or  ring,  which  convinced  the  captive 
that  there  was  no  treachery  to  fear  if  he  would  con- 
descend to  array  himself  in  this  new  oavrier  attire, 
and  (giving  him  also  the  pass-word)  issue  forth  in  his 
stead  at  evening  time  with  a  plank  on  his  shoulder — a 

*  Should  the  mention  above  of  the  admirable  Dr.  Conneau  be  observed 
by  any  of  his  relatives,  the  author  would  feel  obliged  either  by  confirma- 
tion or  rectification  of  circumstances  stated  in  the  text. 


33o        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN    OF   FRANCE. 

plank  that  would  help  to  conceal  his  face  from  the 
sentry  nearest  to  him. 

The  Prince  did  so ;  and  after  sunset  on  that  event- 
ful day  he  found  himself  not  only  at  liberty,  but  in 
the  presence  of  the  woman  who  had  originated  his 
escape.  In  the  livery  of  one  of  her  footmen — a  livery 
kept  ready  for  him — he  continued  his  journey  across 
the  frontier,  and  at  last,  after  much  suffering  and  long 
imprisonment  patiently  endured  and  nobly  borne,  he 
found  himself  again  in  England.  But  the  lady,  though 
strong  to  help  in  time  of  need,  was  not  proof  against 
cruel  methods  of  opposition  to  her  choice  on  the  part 
of  her  family  (at  least  so  it  is  affirmed  by  those  of 
that  time  who  knew  her  best),  and  she  soon  married, 
not  the  Prince,  who  conducted  himself  with  perfect 
honour  in  all  relating  to  her,  but  a  celebrated  Italian 
marquis,  whose  wife  she  now  is.  In  the  course  of  a 
few  years,  just  when  the  Papal  throne  was  most  de- 
pendent on  French  bayonets  for  support,  the  illustrious 
husband  of  this  lady  found  himself  in  a  position  of 
considerable  danger  and  difficulty.  With  the  energy 
of  former  years,  she  started  off  across  Mont  Cenis 
from  Rome  to  Paris.  The  captive  Prince  of  other 
days  had  by  that  time  become  Emperor  of  the  French  ; 
she  sent  a  messenger  to  him,  telling  him  of  her 
trouble  concerning  her  husband.      The  Emperor,  who 


EUGENIE    AND    PRINCESS   MATHILDE.     331 

never  forgot  a  kindness  or  forsook  a  friend  (and  to 
this  hundreds  of  grateful  hearts  can  bear  testimony), 
came  to  her ;  his  will  was  then  all-powerful  at  the 
Vatican  ;  he  heard  her  tale,  and  she  quickly  returned 
to  Italy  with  the  mandate  of  her  husband's  liberty  in 
her  hand.  Long  may  he  live  to  enjoy  it  with  her  ! 
He  could  not  be  jealous  that  his  freedom  was  a  boon 
from  one  who  had  formerly  been  dear  to  her,  for  not 
only  was  the  marquis  convinced  of  the  devotion  of  his 
wife  towards  himself,  but  he  knew  that  the  Emperor 
was  wedded  to  one  who  had  eclipsed  all  possible 
rivalry. 

For  from  the  first  moment  that  the  Emperor  had 
beheld  Madlle.  de  Montijo,  Comtesse  de  Teba,  after 
the  Revolution  of  1848  had  given  him  power  over  the 
land  from  which  he  so  long  was  an  exile,  his  fate  was 
fixed  :  and  whether  at  the  Presidential  festivals,  given 
at  the  palace  of  the  Elysee,  under  the  auspices  of  his 
accomplished  cousin,  the  Princesse  Mathilde,  or  at  St. 
Cloud,  or  elsewhere,  the  lovely  and  graceful  Spanish 
lady  was  observed  by  him  as  the  one  most  worthy  to 
be  placed  on  the  throne  of  France.  Accompanied  by 
some  of  her  relatives  she  had  visited  that  country :  to 
her  it  was  one  rife  from  childhood  with  thrilling  recol- 
lections, for,  although  herself  hitherto  almost  a  stranger 
to  it,  had  not  her  father  fought  and  bled  for  it  ? 


332        ILLUSTRIOUS   WOMEN   OF  FRANCE. 

When  first  she  arrived  there  she  found  the  accent 
of  the  French  language  somewhat  opposed  to  that  of 
her  own  melodious  and  more  southern  tongue  ;  but 
at  last  a  day  came  when  the  illustrious  host  of  St. 
Cloud,  where  she  was  on  a  visit  with  many  other 
guests,  said  to  her,  "  Is  it  love  that  has  taught  you 
French  ?"  And  she  is  reported  to  have  answered, 
"  Non,  Sire,  c'est  le  Francais  qui  m'a  appris  l'amour." 

In  a  company  such  as  that  then  assembled  at  St. 
Cloud — the  once  favourite  abode  of  Queen  Marie  An- 
toinette, and  afterwards  of  the  Empress  Josephine — 
it  is  often  difficult  to  trace  the  real  origin  of  anecdotes 
such  as  this,  but  there  can  be  no  doubt  whatever  that ' 
in  the  month  of  January,  1853,  the  Emperor  Napo- 
leon III.,  having  convoked  an  assembly  of  the  chief 
legislative  representatives  at  the  Tuileries,  announced 
his  approaching  marriage  with  Madlle.  de  Montijo  in 
the  following  words  : — "  She  who  has  become  the 
•  object  of  my  preference  is  of  elevated  birth.  French 
in  heart,  by  education,  and  by  the  memory  of  her 
father's  blood  shed  for  the  cause  of  the  Empire,  she,  as 
a  Spaniard,  has  the  advantage  of  not  in  France  being 
the  member  of  a  family  on  which  it  might  be  neces- 
sary to  confer  honours  and  dignities.  Endowed  with 
all  noble  qualities  of  the  soul,  she  will  be  the  ornament 
of  the  throne,  whilst  in  the  day  of  danger  she  would 


EUGENIE    AND    PRINCESS   MATHILDE.     333 

become  one  of  its  most  courageous  supports.  Catholic 
and  pious,  she  will  address  the  same  prayers  as  myself 
to  Heaven  for  the  happiness  of  France.  Gracious  and 
good,  she  will,  I  firmly  hope,  by  being  placed  in  the 
same  position,  revive  the  virtues  of  the  Empress  Jose- 
phine." 

This  address  having  met  with  most  favourable 
response,  the  marriage  of  Napoleon  III.  with  Eugenie 
de  Montijo,  Comtesse  de  Teba,  was  celebrated  at  the 
Tuileries  on  the  29th  of  January,  1853,  and  on  the 
following  day  at  the  cathedral  of  Notre  Dame. 

Almost  immediately  afterwards  the  Empress-bride 
gave  an  indication  of  that  generosity  of  disposition 
which  has  upon  various  occasions  since  distinguished 
her,  for  the  sum  of  600,000  francs  having  been  voted 
by  the  municipal  council  of  Paris  for  the  purchase  of 
a  parure  of  ornaments,  suitable  not  only  to  her  beauty 
but  her  imperial  rank,  she  entreated  that,  instead  of 
devoting  this  sum  to  her  own  personal  adornment, 
she  might  be  allowed  to  "  consecrate  it  to  the  founda- 
tion of  an  establishment  for  the  professional  education 
of  poor  young  girls,"  who,  though  possibly  well-born 
and  gifted  with  some  talent,  are  precluded  from  the 
honest  exercise  of  the  latter  by  lack  of  special  training 
essential  to  its  development. 

Nor  was  this  the  only  sign  of  beneficence  given  by 


334        ILLUSTRIOUS    WOMEN    OF   FRANCE. 

the  newly-wedded  Empress,  for  the  Emperor,  having 
placed   in   the   "  Corbeille  de    Mariage "    a   sum   of 
250,000  francs,  her  Majesty  divided  the  whole  of  it 
for  the  double  and  humane  purpose  of  increasing  the 
hospital  accommodation  of  Paris,  and  of  alleviating 
the  wants  felt  by  various  maternal  societies  in  that 
city.     From  the  moment  that  she  became  his  wife, 
the  Empress  associated  herself  with  all  that  was  good 
and   glorious   in  the   career  of  Napoleon  III.  ;  and, 
whether    during    his    Italian     campaign,    when    her 
intelligent    sympathy  invariably  displayed    itself  by 
government  measures  at   home,  or   whether,  as  the 
companion  of  his  various  progresses  through  France, 
or  in  the  moment  of  immediate  danger — such  as  that 
which  threatened   his  life  at  the    beginning    of  the 
year  1858, — or  in  more  recent  days — such  as  those 
plague-stricken  ones  when  Amiens  was  devastated  by 
cholera, — the  Empress  Eugenie  has  invariably  mani- 
fested heroic  characteristics,  a  lofty  courage,  a  grand 
power  of  endurance,  a  spirit  of  self-sacrifice,  which 
none  but  those  who  personally  know  her  best  would 
expect   from  so   fragile-looking   a   being,    nor   from 
one    who,    radiant    in    the  midst   of  brilliant   festi- 
vities inaugurated  by  her,  or  when  appearing  in  the 
midst  of   Paris  outside  her  own  palace-walls, — that 
Paris  which   her   imperial    consort    found    made   of 


EUGENIE    AND   PRINCESS   MATHILDE.     335 

brick  but  left  built  in  marble,T— could  have  expected. 
It  is  difficult  to  write,  fearing  any  appearance  of 
adulation,  concerning  an  illustrious  contemporary ; 
but  still  it  is  only  due  to  the  memory  of  Napo- 
leon III.  to  recall  the  ever-increasing  splendour 
under  his  reign  of  Paris,  from  which,  as  though 
by  some  magic  wand,  was  evoked,  not  only  "ser- 
mons in  stones,"  but  a  poem  in  architecture,  in 
public  gardens — a  poem  like  a  fairy  tale  in  which 
the  perfume  of  innumerable  flowers,  the  murmur  of 
sparkling  fountains,  the  symbolic  forms  of  mute 
though  eloquent  statues  (each  one  a  goddess-like 
representative  of  some  provincial  French  city,  and 
carrying,  or  otherwise  displaying  the  chief  product  of 
that  city,  whether  in  the  arts  of  peace  or  war)  all  bear 
part — a  poem  dating,  as  it  were,  from  the  statue  of  the 
first  Napoleon  surmounting  the  Arc  de  Triomphe,  on 
the  summit  of  the  long  and  verdant  perspective  of  the 
Champs  FJys^es, — a  poem  tinged  with  the  antique 
shadow  of  the  blood-red  obelisk  imported  by  that 
great  conqueror  from  Thebes,  standing  (on  the  spot 
where  once  stood  the  regicide  and  revolutionary  guil- 
lotine) in  the  centre  of  the  space  called  the  Place  de 
la  Concorde — a  poem  until  lately  making  luminous 
with  historic  and  social  memories  the  Chateau  of  the 
Tuileries,  visible  through  a  vista  of  old  trees — a  poem 


336        ILLUSTRIOUS    WOMEN   OF  FRANCE. 

not  excluding  from  its  symmetrical  lines  either  the 
Church  of  the  Magdalene  or  the  Chamber  of  Depu- 
ties,— a  poem  dedicated,  as  it  were,  to  the  Empress 
Eugenie,  for  she  was  the  chief  inspiration  of  the  mind 
from  which  it  emanated. 

Not  since  the  days  of  Francis  I.  or  of  Catherine  de 
Medicis,  has  any  ruler  over  France  achieved  so  much 
to  make  Paris  beautiful  as  did  Napoleon  III.,  who  in- 
herited the  artist  tastes  of  his  gifted  mother,  Queen 
Hortense  :  and,  considering  the  Italian  origin  of  the 
Medicis  as  also  of  the  Napoleonic  race,  it  was,  or 
still  is,  a  strange  coincidence  to  behold  one  of  the 
courts  of  the  ancient  Palace  of  the  Louvre  inscribed 
with  the  words  "  Commenced  by  Catherine  de  Medicis 
and  concluded  by  Napoleon  III." 

Brantome,  the  contemporary  court  chronicler  of 
that  Italian-born  French  Queen  Catherine,  relates 
how,  at  some  festival  of  her  time,  given  at  the  Louvre, 
and  also  at  the  then  newly-built  Tuileries,  a  sort  of 
ballet  was  performed  in  which  the  various  female 
dancers  symbolized  the  several  provinces  of  France, 
by  carrying  in  hand  the  product  of  each  locality  ; 
but  to  Napoleon  III.  it  was  reserved  to  perpetuate 
this  idea  in  marble. 

Did  the  astrologically-learned  Catherine  de  Medicis 
foresee,  when  consulting  the  stars  from  the  then  highest 


EUGENIE   AND   PRINCESS   MATHILDE.     337 

points  of  the  Louvre  or  the  Tuileries,  that  a  stranger 
of  Southern  race  like  herself  would,  centuries  after 
she  had  passed  away  from  earth,  complete  the  works 
which  she  began,  although  that  stranger  would  occupy 
an  imperial  throne  of  France  in  place  of  the  regal  one 
which  (first  as  Queen-Consort,  and  afterwards  as 
Queen-Mother)  she  graced  ? 

The  same  question  may  well  have  suggested  itself 
to  the  mind  of  Napoleon  III.  himself  when  musing 
with  regard  to  the  star  of  his  destiny — a  destiny  full 
of  strange  vicissitudes. 

Sharer  of  these  vicissitudes  was  his  cousin,  the 
Princesse  Mathilde  (daughter  of  Jerome  Bonaparte 
by  a  Princess  of  Wurtemberg),  niece  of  Napoleon  I., 
and  sister  of  the  present  (1873)  Prince  Napo- 
leon. 

To  the  society  of  Queen  Hortense,  the  Princesse 
Mathilde  was  probably  first — though  unconsciously — 
indebted  for  the  development  of  those  artistic  tastes 
which  still  pre-eminently  distinguish  her.  Accus- 
tomed from  her  childhood  to  regard  her  cousin,  Louis 
Napoleon,  with  sisterly  affection,  it  was  at  one  time 
thought  by  some  that  she  was  betrothed  to  him. 
Doubtless  she  was  the  sharer  of  many  of  his  ideas, 
and  her  sympathy  was  ever  at  his  command  ;  with 
him  she  united  in  most  tender  memory  of  his  accom- 


338        ILLUSTRIOUS    WOMEN   OF  FRANCE. 

plished  mother  Queen  Hortense,  and  had  participated 
in  his  grief  at  her  death. 

When,  after  the  revolution  of  1848, — as  here  else- 
where said, — he  was  made  President  of  the  Republic, 
she  helped  to  inspire  Parisian  society  with  enthu- 
siasm in  his  behalf  by  the  grace,  and  charm,  and 
tact  with  which  she  did  the  honours  of  the  then 
Presidential  palace  of  the  Elysee,  at  one  of  the  fetes 
of  which  he  became  acquainted  with  his  future  bride. 

The  late  Emperor  Nicholas  of  Russia  was  a  great 
admirer  of  the  gifted  Princesse  Mathilde,  with  whom 
he  constantly  corresponded,  but  she  was  not  happy 
in  her  marriage  with  one  of  that  Czar's  countrymen 
— Count  Anatole  Demidoff,  who,  although  a  Russian 
by  birth,  resided  generally  in  Italy.  Upon  the  first 
day  of  November,  1840,  this  marriage  took  place, 
and  it  was  in  consequence  of  it  that  the  Princesse 
Mathilde  became  familiar  with  the  society  of  St. 
Petersburgh — that  society  which,  during  this  present 
century,  has  culminated  in  exquisite  refinement,  and 
in  the  midst  of  which  a  growing  taste  for  art — an 
eager  curiosity  respecting  the  literature  of  the  West 
and  South  of  Europe — awaited  her. 

In  Florence,  the  Athens  of  Italy,  the  Princesse 
Mathilde  had  passed  some  of  the  earliest  and  hap- 
piest  days  of  her  youth.      There  where  Dante  had 


EUGENIE    AND    PRINCESS   MATHILDE.     339 

lived  and  loved,  where  Boccacio  had  dreamed  his 
dreams  of  love,  she,  when  only  eleven  years  of  age, 
became  inspired  as  an  artist.  Not  then  yet  for  her 
the  experience  so  generally  terrible  for  woman  of  that 
love  which  drove  Tasso  mad,  which  glows  in  the 
lines  and  lives  of  Italian  poets,  and  fills  the  souls 
even  of  their  readers  with  Promethean  fire ;  not  yet, 
then,  that  for  this  young  artist-Princess ;  but  kind- 
ling sympathies  for  the  noble  deeds  recorded  by 
Florence  in  her  almost  matchless  monuments  which, 
though  only  tombs  seen  through  the  "  dim  religious 
light "  of  some  consecrated  aisle,  tell  not  of  death,  but 
of  a  two-fold  immortality. 

The  house  where  Dante  once  dwelt  on  earth,  stands 
there  the  same — unchanged — as  when  he,  the  great 
poet,  if  not  inspired  prophet,  watched  down  the 
narrow  but  picturesque  street  for  the  possible  ap- 
proach of  his  beloved  Beatrice — for  the  first  flicker 
of  the  white  veil  which  enfolded  her  as  it  still  does 
her  graceful  countrywomen. 

The  vast  sculpture  and  picture  galleries  of  flower- 
crowned  Florence,  revealed  to  her  the  whole  his- 
tory of  art  from  that  almost  unknown  time  when 
the  Venus  de  Medicis  first  stood  forth — thrown,  as 
it  were,  by  the  rainbow-tinted  foam  of  an  eternal 
ocean,   which  holds    in   its  fathomless  depths    many 


340        ILLUSTRIOUS    WOMEN   OF  FRANCE. 

an  unrecorded  shipwreck, — stood  forth,  robed  but  by- 
innocence,  in  the  sight  of  man,  and  on  an  earthly- 
shore  ! 

To  the  young  Princesse  Mathilde — niece  of  that 
conqueror  who  at  one  time  had  caused  this  same 
Venus  de  Mddicis  to  be  transported  from  Italy  to 
France,  like  a  goddess  made  subject  to  him  by  the 
power  of  his  sword — the  Fornarina,  with  fair  hand 
in  repose  near  a  tiger's  skin,  could  not  have  spoken 
as  did  the  Holy  Family  portrayed  by  Raphael,  or 
that  chef  d'cctivre  of  Carlo  Dolce  (at  the  Palazzo 
Pitti)  in  which  faith  and  art,  combined,  subdue 
humanity  by  the  seemingly  inspired  representation 
of  tears — tears  of  infinite  compassion,  shed  and 
welling  up  from  the  mystic  soul  of  the  Man,  who  had 
come  down  on  earth  to  wipe  all  tears  from  all  human 
faces. 

In  the  year  1831,  the  Princesse  Mathilde  first 
wandered  through  the  art-galleries  of  Florence, 
and  it  was  there,  where  the  idea  of  immortality 
supersedes  that  of  death,  she  lost  her  mother, 
but  not  until  the  year  1835.  To  the  care  of  the 
Court  of  Wurtemberg  the  young  and  mourning 
Princess  was  then  confided  ;  her  education  was  sedu- 
lously continued  there  in  company  with  her  young 
kinswoman,    the    Princess   Sophia,   who    afterwards 


EUGENIE   AND    PRINCESS   MATHILDE.     341 

became  celebrated  as  a  Queen,  not  only  of  the  Pays 
Bas  but  of  the  muses  ;  for — as  Queen  Hortense  had 
done — she  unconsciously,  and  by  the  graces  of  her 
mind  and  manner,  imparted  a  refined  and  beneficial 
tone  to  the  society  over  which  she  reigned. 

But  it  was  to  Florence  that  the  Artist-Princesse 
Mathilde  returned,  and  this  at  a  time  when  by  many 
it  was  supposed  that  she  was  the  betrothed  of  her 
cousin  Louis  Napoleon,  son  of  Hortense. 

At  Florence  the  news  of  his  imprisonment  at  Ham 
(under  circumstances  already  here  recorded)  reached 
her;  and,  after  his  release,  neither  political  nor 
private  affairs  favoured  their  union,  except  by  the 
links  of  a  true  friendship  which,  first  fostered  be- 
tween them  by  the  one  being — Queen  Hortense, — 
whose  memory  was  mutually  sacred  to  them  both, 
could  never  in  this  world  be  sundered. 

The  Princesse  Mathilde — married,  as  beforesaid,  in 
1840,  to  the  Russian  noble  Anatole  Demidoff — con- 
tinued to  reside  chiefly  in  Italy — the  land  not  only  of 
her  own  Napoleonic  ancestry  but  of  her  artistic  predi- 
lections. In  the  year  when  the  Crimean  war  broke  out, 
she  feared  its  influence  on  her  friendship  with  the  Em- 
peror of  Russia,  but  in  a  letter  to  her  at  the  beginning 
of  the  new  year  which  threatened  terrible  bloodshed 
between  the  two  beings  most  dear  to  her  on  earth — 


342        ILLUSTRIOUS    WOMEN   OF  FRANCE. 

between  the  two  countries  which  she  represented, 
politically  and  by  marriage,  the  Emperor  of  Russia 
wrote  to  her  : — ".  ...  Of  one  thing  I  can  assure 
you,  and  this  is  that,  under  all  possible  contingen- 
cies, I  shall  never  cease  to  have  for  you  those  senti- 
ments of  affection  which  I  have  avowed  to  you." 

Here  let  English  readers  remember  that  the  word 
affection,  written  in  the  language  used  by  its  Imperial 
writer  in  this  case,  by  no  means  necessarily  implies 
the  ordinary  British  interpretation  of  such  a  word  any 
more  than  the  fact  of  the  Emperor  Nicholas  addres- 
sing this,  his  fair  correspondent,  as  "  My  dear  Cousin," 
or  "  My  dear  Niece,"  purports  that,  in  point  of  fact, 
she — or  anybody  else  of  her  rank  so  addressed — 
actually  stood  in  such  relationship  to  him  ;  the  bonds 
of  sympathy  uniting  this  illustrious  man  and  woman 
did  honour  to  them  both. 

When  by  the  marriage  of  her  cousin  Napoleon  III., 
the  Princesse  Mathilde  was  released  from  those  social 
duties  towards  him  and  French  society  which  she  had 
so  gracefully  and  graciously  performed,  during  the 
Presidency,  at  the  Elysee  and  elsewhere,  she  divided 
her  time  mainly  between  France  and  Italy.  Her 
works  as  an  artist  are  well-known  to  the  world  at 
large,  more  especially  as  the  French  painter,  Charles 
Giraud,  has  helped  to  immortalize  them   and  himself 


EUGENIE   AND   PRINCESS   MATHILDE.     343 

in  a  celebrated  picture  of  her  atelier  in  Paris  ;  but  no 
picture  of  the  Princesse  Mathilde's  studio  could  be 
complete  without  a  portrait  of  the  gifted  and  illus- 
trious artist  herself — a  portrait  often  copied,  but  here 
sketched  in  pen  and  ink  by  M.  Sainte  Beuve,  dear  to 
the  world  of  more  than  one  generation  because  of  his 
genial  "  Caascrics  dc  Ltindi"  and  to  many  private 
friends,  who  now  mourn  for  him  because  of  his  noble- 
hearted  characteristics,  his  liberality  of  manly  feeling, 
which  enabled  him,  though  one  of  the  most  eminent 
and  accomplished  critics  of  modern  times,  to  discern 
something  good — corresponding  with  his  own  fine 
nature — in  almost  all  his  fellow-creatures.  Portraying 
the  Princesse  Mathilde,  he  says  : — 

"  Her  clear  brown  eyes,  more  intelligent  than  large, 
are  not  of  those  which  know  how  to  dissimulate,  for 
they  shine  (or  are  shaded)  with  every  passing  thought 
of  the  moment.  Her  whole  physiognomy  expresses 
nobility,  dignity,  and — when  she  becomes  animated — 
a  grace  united  with  strength,  a  joyousness  resulting 
from  a  nature  in  which  health,  candour,  and  goodness 
are  sometimes  combined  with  fiery  ardour  ....  Her 
forehead  is  lofty  and  proud  ;  her  fair  hair,  raised  from 
it  and  falling  luxuriantly  upon  a  neck  both  full- 
formed  and  elegant,  reveals  an  intellectual  brow  ('  les 
tcmpes  larges  et  pures').     Her  features   are  well  de- 


344       ILLUSTRIOUS    WOMEN  OF  FRANCE. 

fined,  with  no  trace  of  indecision  in  them.  One  or 
two  moles  ('  beauty  spots '),  placed  as  though  by- 
chance,  show  that  nature  has  not  willed  that  this 
classic  purity  of  outline  shall  be  confounded  with  any 
other  ....  The  head  well  placed,  and  carried  with 
dignity,  surmounts  a  magnificent  bust  and  shoulders 
resembling  alabaster.  The  hands  (those  peculiar  to 
the  Bonaparte  family)  are  the  most  beautiful  in  the 
world.  The  figure,  of  moderate  height,  appears  tall, 
because  it  is  supple  and  well-proportioned." 

Many  persons  now  in  England  (1873)  can  vouch 
for  the  accuracy  of  this  pen-and-ink  portrait  of  the 
Princesse  Mathilde ;  for  quite  recently,  in  the  little 
church  at  Chiselhurst,  she  appeared  at  the  funeral  of 
the  man  who,  from  childhood,  she  had  cherished  as  a 
loved  companion  ;  the  man  for  whose  sorrows  she  had 
mourned,  and  in  whose  marvellous  successes  she  had 
rejoiced — the  man  who  at  one  time  was  supposed  to 
be  her  own  future  husband.  All  the  memories  of 
her  own  life  are  linked  with  his  ;  and  there  were 
some  strangers  in  the  sanctuary  where  he  now  reposes 
who  will  not  soon  forget  the  dignified  figure  of  a 
woman  clad  in  deepest  mourning,  in  whose  oft- 
stricken  but  generous  heart  every  phase  of  the  cere- 
mony which  consigned  the  mortal  remains  of  the 
Emperor  Napoleon  III.  to  the  tomb,  must  have  pain- 


EUG&NIE   AND   PRINCESS   MATHILDE.     345 

fully  vibrated  ;  touching  some  tender  chord  of  re- 
membrance in  a  way  to  need  all  the  hopes  of  Heaven, 
involved  in  the  ceremony,  to  sustain — for  that  woman 
was  his  cousin,  the  Princesse  Mathilde. 

Upon  the  sacred  grief  of  the  one  most  near  and 
most  dear  to  the  Emperor  Napoleon  III.,  no  pen  as 
yet  may  dare  to  write ;  but  if,  in  this  world,  any 
solace  can  be  found  for  affliction  such  as  that  which 
the  newly-widowed  Empress  Eugenie  is  now  called 
upon  to  bear,  she,  of  all  others,  ought  to  derive  con- 
solation, not  only  from  the  universal  sympathy  felt 
for  her  in  this  land  of  her  exile  (a  sympathy  felt  and 
manifested  by  her  Britannic  Majesty,  and  shared  by 
every  class  of  that  widowed  Queen's  subjects),  but 
from  the  consciousness  of  having  most  nobly  done 
her  duty  under  circumstances  of  fearful  and  extra- 
ordinary trial. 

Too  soon  it  is  yet,  without  an  appearance  of  adula- 
tion distasteful  to  the  Empress  Eugenie,  to  record  her 
actions — which  will  shine  in  the  pages  of  history — 
from  that  day  when  her  Imperial  husband,  even  then 
labouring  under  the  malady  soon  afterwards  fatal  to 
him,  went  forth  to  the  war  only  too  well  remembered 
by  readers — and  their  name  is  legion — who  sympa- 
thise with  France  under  her  inevitable  and  bravely- 
borne  reverses. 


346        ILLUSTRIOUS    WOMEN    OF  FRANCE. 


When  by  the  speech,  already  here  recorded,  the 
Emperor  Napoleon  III.,  announcing  his  intended 
marriage  with  the  now  widowed  Empress  Eugenie, 
declared  his  belief  that  in  the  day  of  danger  to  the 
Imperial  throne  she  would  be  one  of  its  most  cou- 
rageous supporters,  he  uttered  a  prediction  which  has 
been  fulfilled  by  her  beyond  even  his  most  sanguine 
expectations ;  for,  though  strangely  prophetic  of 
many  things  that  have  come  to  pass,  he  could  not 
have  anticipated  the  sudden  and  overwhelming  storm 
which  would  prematurely  close  his  reign — a  reign 
both  of  peace  and  glory — and  call  forth  on  the  part 
of  the  Empress  those  characteristics,  which  could 
never  have  been  displayed  to  the  whole  world  save 
in  the  day  of  such  danger  that  natures  of  a  less 
exalted  type  would  recoil  before  it. 

When,  true  to  the  spirit  of  her  own  brave  Spanish 
ancestry,  and  speaking  the  words  of  Queen  Marie 
Antoinette — speaking  those  words  in  the  very  palace 
where  that  fair  Queen  of  France  had  uttered  them 
— the  Empress  Eugenie  declared  that  she  would 
"  rather  be  nailed  to  the  walls  than  fly,"  she  was,  if 
possible,  even  in  greater  danger  than  was  the  high- 
souled  daughter  of  the  heroic  Maria  Theresa  before 
her  forced  departure  from  the  Tuileries  ;  for  near  the 
Empress,  when   the   maddened  and   infuriated  mob 


EUGENIE   AND   PRINCESS   MATHILDE.     347 

came  pressing  onward  toward  that  palace  (quickly 
afterwards  destroyed  by  it),  was  no  crowd  of  armed 
defenders,  no  husband  to  sustain  her.  She  was 
alone  with  one  lady  attendant,  her  lectricc,  when  the 
probability  of  her  terrible  and  immediate  danger  was 
suddenly  imparted  to  her  by  a  devoted  adherent  of 
the  Imperial  throne,  but  who,  even  for  the  sake  of  the 
Empress  herself,  was  compelled  to  depart  the  moment 
after  his  word  of  warning  had  been  uttered.  So,  at 
least,  it  is  said  in  Paris.  There  was  not  a  moment  to 
spare ;  the  courage  of  the  Empress  was  undaunted, 
but,  just  then,  utterly  unprotected  though  she  was, 
the  safety  of  others  not  present  was  involved  with 
her  own.  She  could  not  fail  to  remember,  by  a 
painfully  vivid  flash  of  memory,  that  in  case  of  mortal 
reverses  ensuing  to  her  beloved  and  absent  husband, 
the  hope  of  a  future  for  the  Prince  Imperial  rested  in 
her  decision  at  this  unforeseen  instant,  when  every- 
thing of  most  solemn  import,  not  only  to  herself  but 
to  those  she  loved  far  more  than  herself,  depended  on 
her  discretion.  Wherefore,  just  as  the  murderous 
mob  approached  the  chateau  of  the  Tuileries,  the 
Empress  receded  from  it  into  the  ancient  Palace  of 
the  Louvre  from  which  there  was  still,  possibly,  a 
comparatively  safe  exit  for  her  and  her  one  faithful 
lady  attendant,  whose  "  privilege  "  it  was  to  share  the 


348        ILLUSTRIOUS    WOMEN    OF  FRANCE. 

danger  of  her  gentle,  though  Imperial  mistress. 
Fortunately,  they  were  both  in  out-door  costume 
when  the  alarm  was  given  to  them,  and,  by  the  help 
of  a  thick  veil,  the  Empress  might  yet  hope  to  pass 
out  into  the  street  through  the  portal  of  the  Louvre, 
near  which  she  at  length  found  herself.  But,  for  a 
moment,  there  was  an  agonised  suspense ;  the  key — 
the  key  by  which  alone  this  portal  could  be  opened 
from  the  inside,  was  missing  from  the  place  where  it 
was  usually  to  be  found.  The  Empress  neither 
screamed  nor  fainted,  though  there  was  not  an  instant 
to  be  lost,  and  even  more  than  her  life  depended 
upon  her  instant  escape. 

The  key  is  found  (on  to  the  floor  it  had  dropped, 
owing  to  some  rusty  nail — so  much  sometimes  do 
great  depend  on  small  things  in  this  world) — the  key 
is  found  !  The  heavy  portal  of  the  Louvre,  on  the 
Seine  side  of  that  antique  and  historic  edifice,  turns 
on  its  hinges ;  the  veiled  Empress  and  her  attendant 
step  forth  on  to  the  public  way,  and  hail  a  fiacre — a 
cab.  A  gamin — one  of  those  preternaturally-sharp 
street  boys,  springing  only,  it  would  seem,  from  the 
pavement  either  of  Paris  or  London — calls  out  in 
his  shrill  tones,  whilst  pointing  towards  her  Majesty, 
"  Mais,  voila  l'lmperatrice  !  " 

Public  attention  is  elsewhere  at  this  moment  dis- 


EUGENIE   AND    PRINCESS   MATHILDE.     349 

tracted,  for  all  Paris  is  in  turbulent  excitement  ever 
on  the  increase,  and  the  Empress  Eugenie  escapes 
from  that  city  over  which  she  had  ruled  with  a  gentle, 
generous  hand ;  and  which  her  Imperial  husband 
(the  man  who  never  forgot  a  kindness,  and  who  was 
glorious  in  his  gratitude)  found  "  made  of  brick  but 
left  built  of  marble."  * 

The  sudden  nature  of  the  events  which  forcibly- 
prevented  the  return  of  the  Emperor  Napoleon  III. 
to  France,  and  banished  the  Empress  Eugenie  from 
that  land  of  her  love  and  adoption,  only  brought 
forth  those  noble  qualities  which  the  Emperor  had 

*  Should  the  above,  doubtless  imperfect,  account  of  the  forced  flight 
of  the  Empress  Eugenie  meet  the  eye  of  her  Imperial  Majesty,  or  claim 
the  attention  of  any  individual  personally  implicated  in  the  whole 
circumstances  attendant  on  that  flight,  the  present  writer  would  regard 
correction  as  a  favour,  considering  the  extreme  difficulty  of  treating 
events  so  recent  as  those  involved  in  the  text  above.  Even  the  chief 
actors  in  such  events  find  it  sometimes  hard  to  record  every  circum- 
stance connected  with  them,  for  the  dust  of  contemporary  conflict 
impedes  clear  vision.  For  example,  the  present  writer  once  knew  an 
aged  officer,  a  Captain  of  the  Guards,  who  had  fought  at  Waterloo  ; 
and  upon  being  asked  whether  indeed  the  Duke  of  Wellington  did,  in 
that  memorable  battle,  call  out,  "Up,  Guards,  and  at  them!"  he 
answered  that  it  was  very  possible  the  Duke  had  done  so,  but,  for  his 
own  part,  he  neither  heard  him  nor  scarcely  knew  on  which  side  lay  the 
chances  of  victory  until  it  was  proclaimed  in  favour  of  the  English. 
And  yet  this  aged  officer  was  of  remarkable  intelligence,  quite  unim- 
paired by  time,  and  had  won  his  laurels  on  the  battle-field  of  which  he 
spoke  so  modestly.  It  is  believed  that  the  Duke  of  Wellington  himself 
once  made  a  similar  reply. 


35o        ILLUSTRIOUS    WOMEN   OF  FRANCE. 

discerned  in  her  when  he  first  presented  her  to  his 
people  as  the  wife' of  his  choice,  who  would  grace  the 
throne  in  time  of  peace  and  uphold  its  honour  in  time 
of  danger.  She  has  done  so.  Even  in  her  voyages 
she  has  done  much,  not  only  for  France  but  for  the 
world  at  large.  It  seems  but  the  other  day  that  she 
was  floating  up  the  Nile,  and  illumining  the  East 
with  her  presence — a  graceful  type  of  woman's  western 
civilisation  ;  but  these  and  other  journeys  were  not 
undertaken  by  her  for  the  mere  purpose  of  personal 
amusement,  or  even  in  search  of  health  ;  for  each  one 
of  them,  more  or  less,  involved  a  political  purpose  for 
some  proposed  benefit  to  France.  The  same  remark 
may  be  made  in  reference  to  the  great  Universal 
Exposition  of  a  few  years  since  on  the  Champ  de 
Mars,  when,  with  even-handed  justice,  she  desired 
that  Malmaison  should  be  reproduced  as  far  as 
possible,  together  with  the  Little  Trianon,  just  as  both 
these  historic  abodes  had  been  when  the  ex-Empress 
Josephine  wept  in  the  one,  and  the  youthful  Marie 
Antoinette — unprophetic  of  tragic  times  in  store  for 
her — smiled,  radiant  with  happiness,  in  the  other.* 

*  No  reader,  either  English  or  French,  can  here  forget  that  the 
original  idea  of  an  "  Universal  Exhibition "  of  arts,  manufactures, 
science,  etc.,  is  due  to  Albert,  Prince  Consort  of  England.  This  same 
idea  which,  practically  worked  out,  has  done  so  much  for  the  arts  of 
peace  and  for  the  mental  approximation  of  all  nations,  is  now  (1873)- 


EUGENIE   AND   PRINCESS   MATHILDE.     351 

As  a  mother  the  Empress  Eugenie  has  proved  her- 
self worthy  of  her  high  mission,  and  of  the  solemn 
trust  reposed  in  her  ;  for,  however  gentle  her  cha- 
racter, however  tender  her  general  disposition,  she 
has  never  shrunk  from  enforcing  the  discipline 
essential  to  the  education  of  her  son,  the  Prince 
Imperial. 

A  thousand  well-authenticated  anecdotes  could  be 
told  on  this  subject,  but  they  all  resolve  themselves 
into  the  one  fact,  that,  just  in  the  same  way  as 
Napoleon  III. — the  cherished  son  of  his  devoted 
mother,  Hortense — was  early  inured  to  the  gradual 
endurance  of  this  life's  hereditary  suffering — a  suffer- 
ing all  the  more  inevitable  because  of  a  lofty  destiny 
— the  Empress  Eugenie  (daughter  of  a  brave  soldier 
who  had  bled  and  suffered  in  the  cause  of  the  Empire) 
has  never  shrunk  from  the  enforcement  of  rules  which 
have  already  taught  her  son  how  to  exercise  the 
power  of  self-government. 

Athenian  in  her  elegant  tastes,  her  artistic  love  of 
form  and  brilliance  of  colour,  evident  even  in  her  own 
personal  adornment,  she  is  none  the  less  a  Spartan  at 
heart — that  heart  which  has  vibrated  at  the  tale  of 

being  exemplified  at  Vienna.  The  English  poet  Chaucer  first  mooted 
this  idea  in  one  of  his  celebrated  compositions,  but  England  and  France 
combined  have  practically  established  it. 


352         ILLUSTRIOUS  WOMEN   OF  FRANCE. 

(and  because  of  her  own  recent  and  practical  know- 
ledge and  experience  of)  her  husband's  various  impri- 
sonments, and  which  is  now  as  though  broken  by  her 
sorrow  for  his  death  in  exile,  and  under  circumstances 
entailing  upon  her  a  heritage  of  anxiety. 

But  upon  such  a  subject  nothing  more  can  here  be 
said.  Sympathy  is  sometimes  most  eloquent  when 
most  mute ;  and  it  was  even  perhaps  because  of  this 
sympathy,  which  "  maketh  the  whole  world  akin,"  that 
one  of  the  most  welcome  and  touching  tributes  lately 
offered  to  the  Empress,  or  rather  to  the  memory  of 
the  husband  snatched  from  her  by  death,  consisted 
not  in  any  of  the  many  exotic  wreaths  woven  for  her 
and  for  him  by  royal  or  princely  hands  ;  not  even  in 
the  profusion  of  violets  (emblematic  of  the  Empire  of 
France  since  the  time  of  that  Empire's  heroic  founder), 
but  in  the  simple  wreath  of  Immortelles  brought  over 
from  France  to  Chiselhurst  by  the  Ouvriers — the 
honest  workmen — of  Paris. 


THE   END. 


BRADBURY,    ASKEW,   &   CO.,    PRINTERS,    WHITEFRIARS. 


De 


3  1205  0016 


0748 


THE  LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 

Santa  Barbara 


THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  LAST  DATE 
STAMPED  BELOW. 


Series  9482 


■f-^ 


